Inside Man
by Vol lady
Summary: AU Follows "To Prison" (rated M – adjust your filter if you want to read it). The title has a double meaning in this story of Jarrod's return home and recovery after three years in prison for his crimes at Rimfire.
1. Chapter 1

Inside Man

Chapter 1

His first night home was not what he expected. He naively thought that sleeping in his own bed - his own, big, soft, not an upper bunk in a cell bed - would surround him with such comfort and contentment that he'd sleep like a baby, deep and undisturbed. Instead, he found himself jerking awake almost the instant he nodded off, over and over again. He wasn't sure why. He tried to grab at the wisp of a dream that might have startled him awake, but the wisp always disappeared in the air, as wisps always do. He struggled to get any sleep at all, until finally the sun was coming up and he was wide awake for good.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around in the dim morning light, and he realized he kept waking up because he was alone again. What kept waking him up was the unconscious belief he was back in solitary confinement, back in prison. He kept looking at this room, the room he'd slept in all his life, the bed he'd slept in with his wife three years ago before she was murdered, before he'd gone mad and almost killed her murderer after bribing a sheriff to let the man out of jail so he could have at him. Before he'd been sent to prison for his crimes. He had a long talk with himself. This wasn't solitary confinement in prison. He had served his sentence. He was home. But what did that mean?

He caught a look at himself in the mirror across the room. His face was too thin and haggard. His own nightshirt swallowed him whole, he'd lost so much weight. He closed his eyes against that man, and he kept talking to himself. He told himself that if he was going to move forward, he'd have to face reality. He was home, but he was not the man who had lived here before. He didn't know who that man in the mirror was. Three years in prison had changed him, but that wasn't even all of the truth. The rest of it was that the man who had lived here before had always been a myth, someone he thought he knew but it turned out he did not know at all. He looked at his reflection on the mirror again, and had no idea who he was.

He tried to put words to it. Convict. Criminal. Mystery. Lost soul. Son, brother, husband - widower. They all fit, and yet none of them told the whole story. He ran his hand through his hair and over his eyes. He kept talking to himself. He should have decided it was time to get up and start figuring out who he was now, now that he had shot his life to pieces and paid for it with three ugly years in prison. Now that he was no longer Jarrod Barkley, Esquire. Now that he knew he never was the man he thought he was.

_You're thinking too much_, _Jarrod_, he thought. Still exhausted, he got up and dressed in his three-year old clothes that were too big for him. He used the belt they had bought him in Carson City and was at least able to keep his pants up. He picked up his old pocket watch from the night table and checked the time. It was barely five o'clock.

He used the wc but did not shave, because he heard people moving around and did not want to hog the room. He made his way downstairs to find Silas had already set breakfast out, and Nick and Heath were already pouring coffee.

"Morning, Jarrod," Heath said.

"Morning," Jarrod said quietly.

"Didn't sleep well, huh?"

"No," Jarrod said. He was just standing there in the doorway, looking more than half asleep.

He heard the rush of skirts behind him and turned to have both his mother and sister kiss him on the cheek. They made him smile despite how awful he felt. They wished him good morning, did not criticize his lack of a shave and sat down at the table, but he just stood there.

His old chair at the end of the table was still empty. Nick motioned to it. "Sit down, Pappy. Eat something and you'll feel better."

Jarrod sat down in his old place, but he felt awkward about it, even more awkward than he had the night before at dinner. It was a place of honor he didn't feel like he deserved. As soon as he was seated, Victoria began the blessing. "Dear Father, we thank you for this food we are about to share, and we thank you especially that we are all together again to share it."

They dug in, except that Jarrod lagged behind. Nick poured him some coffee. "Maybe some of this will help."

Jarrod eyed the beautiful cup and picked it up. "I'm sorry. It might take me a while to get back into the old habits." He looked at the cup, appreciating the beauty of the china, trying to adjust to beauty being around him again, especially the small beauties like the cup.

"What are your plans for the day?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod almost looked startled, but then he actually smiled a little ironic smile. "I don't know. It's been so long that my day has been planned by someone else, I hadn't even given it any thought."

"It looks like a nap might be a good idea," Audra said, "but if you'd like to go riding with me, the fresh air might do you good."

Jarrod smiled more. "That might help. Is Jingo up to taking me out?"

"Sure is," Heath said. "He'll be glad to see you."

Silas came in at that point with three sugar cubes in a small dish that he set down in front of Jarrod. "It sounds like you're going riding, Mr. Jarrod. Jingo will be looking for these."

Jarrod laughed now, remembering how his old friend Jingo did like his sugar, and how his old friend Silas was always one step ahead of everyone else. "Thank you, Silas," Jarrod said. Just the thought of riding with Audra, feeding a sugar cube to Jingo, Silas thinking ahead for him, made Jarrod begin to wake up and feel more like he really was home. He took the sugar out of the dish and put it into his pocket.

XXXXXXX

Seeing Jingo saddled and ready in the stable yard was startling for Jarrod, just as everything that was familiar to him from years ago was startling even though it seemed crazy that it was. When Jingo gave him a look and a flick of his tail, Jarrod relaxed and smiled, took the gelding by the bridle, and rubbed his nose. "Hello, old friend," he said very quietly. "Did you miss me?"

His gentleness, the almost wistful look on his face despite the smile, almost broke Audra's heart. _It's like he's coming back from the dead_, she thought for a moment, but at that moment Jingo whinnied and nuzzled at Jarrod's pocket.

Jarrod laughed and reached for a sugar cube. "Ah, you do still remember me," he said as Jingo took the cube and flicked his tail again.

"Where would you like to go?" Audra asked.

Jarrod knew exactly where he wanted to go, and if it was a place he might normally want to go alone, he did not want to go there alone now. After being separated from the people he loved for so long, he wanted to be with them, to share with them. Not just because he knew they would help him find his way, but also because he wanted to give them something back for having seen him through so far. He had always been somewhat of a secretive man - they often gave him grief over the secrets he had to keep or just wanted to keep. He didn't want to do that now. He wanted Audra to see Isla del Cielo with him.

"Someplace special," he said. "Someplace - ." He stopped. He didn't know how to explain. He felt the need to show her instead.

Audra mounted up with a smile. "Lead the way, then."

Jarrod mounted and they were off, and before very long they were beside the lake that was overflowing with memories, some good, some horrible. It was here he had soothed his ten-year old soul when the world was mean to him and where his twenty-year-old self wrote bad poetry. But it was here he had lost his wife. It was here they had shared their last kiss together, dreamed their last dream together of a home with no roof so as not to shut out the sky, of a home full of love and children. It was here his world fell apart. No, where he blasted it apart. It was here the animal inside first tore out of his soul and destroyed the Jarrod who was.

He sat staring at the lake. Audra sat staring at him. "This was where it happened, isn't it?" Audra finally asked.

Jarrod nodded and dismounted. Audra followed him down to the lake and the log he and Beth had sat on, at the spot where she was shot dead reaching for flowers. The flowers were in bloom again. The last time he had been here, Jarrod picked one and crushed it in his hand, or maybe it was more like the monster had picked one and crushed it in his hand.

Jarrod bent and picked another flower. This time, he did not crush it. "Forgive me for wanting you to be here with me, but I want you to understand. This place has been special to me all my life. Long before you were even born, I was coming here, and on the day she died, I told Beth I wanted to build our home here. Beth was the only one I had ever told about my love for this place, but now I want you to know, too."

Audra didn't know what to say, so she just listened.

"The man you thought I was - the man I thought I was - he died here with Beth. Or maybe he was never real in the first place, I don't know," Jarrod went on, "but if I'm going to find out what is true about him, if I'm going to find out who I am now, I can't do it alone. I can't keep those secrets inside, not this time. I need your help. If there's one thing I've learned from the last three years, it's that I need help. And I can't even begin to ask you for it if I don't give you everything there is of me now, good and bad. I can't ask you for it if I don't let you understand what you're in for."

Audra touched his face, trying to hold tears back. "The man you thought you were isn't dead. He's still there - humbled, that's true, but he was real and he still is. I'll do anything I can to help you find him again."

"I'll never be him again, Audra," Jarrod said. "Pieces of him, yes, but I have to build a better man, one I'm not ashamed of being. I need help to do that."

Audra smiled. "I know. We all know. And we'll help you. However you want me to help you, I'll help you."

Jarrod took her hand and kissed it, and then held onto it as they walked back up to the hill where the horses waited. "I think maybe I was only five or six when I first found this place. I had found a horse saddled and unattended, and boy, I was on top of that horse as soon as I could figure out how to get up there. I rode and I rode and I ended up here and I knew - even little guy that I was, I knew - that I would always love this place."

"I'll bet Mother and Father were furious when they found you had ridden away," Audra said.

"Oh, you better believe they were," Jarrod said. "Nick had been especially fussy that day - he might have been a year or two old. Mother was all wrapped up trying to deal with him, and Father was out on the range, and when I got home again - oh, my, what a trip behind the barn I got!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sleep he didn't get the night before came down on Jarrod just as he finished lunch, and he begged off to his room to try to take a nap. Victoria and Audra remained at the table, sipping coffee, after he kissed them and headed upstairs. They watched him go, Victoria with concern but Audra with a smile that surprised her mother in a way. "That must have been a very good ride," Victoria said.

"It was," Audra said, still smiling, the flower Jarrod had given her at the lake still behind her ear. "Jarrod took me up to the place where Beth was killed."

Now Victoria was really surprised.

"It didn't go the way I expected," Audra said. "You know, Jarrod's always been more of a father to me than a brother. He never seemed to see me as an equal, just someone he had to take care of. But today, he really opened up to me, not just about Beth and about what he's going through now, but about a lot of things. He's never done much of that before. He told me about being a little boy and riding up to that place for the first time - how you and Father had a fit when he came back."

Victoria remembered and smiled. "He couldn't have been more than five years old, and I looked and he was gone. I was already exhausted because Nick had been irritable for days, and suddenly my five year old is just gone. Independent from the moment he was born, that brother of yours. I was always having to look for him, but this time our foreman's horse was missing, too. I was frantic, and your father was frantic, and Jarrod just came riding back in on a horse so big he couldn't begin to reach the stirrups. He slipped down out of the saddle like he'd been born up there, and we realized he knew exactly how to ride and we were in trouble if we didn't rein him in because he'd take off without a word whenever he wanted."

"That sounds more like Nick."

"Your older brothers have more in common than either one of them would care to admit."

"Jarrod said more today, too, Mother. He just said flat out that he couldn't be the man he was before. He wasn't sure that man was ever real. He said he needed to build a new man he wasn't ashamed of, and that he needed help to do it. He's never said anything like that to me before. He's always been so controlled, so responsible, but today he was - contrite. Ashamed. Very, very open and honest and - ." She couldn't think of the right word.

Victoria said, "Vulnerable."

Audra nodded. "Yes."

"And he treated you like an adult and not like his little sister, or his daughter."

Audra smiled. "Yes. I was honored, in a way."

Victoria nodded. "Your brother's life has been changed all around, more radically than any of us can ever experience. I'm very glad he opened up to you. For him to say to you that he needed help and to say it so soon -." Victoria reached for Audra's hand. "It's a big step. It's a hopeful sign."

"I just hope I can live up to what he needs."

"It will be up and down, sweetheart. Expect that. We'll do the best we can, and frankly, if this had to happen to any of my children, I'm glad Jarrod was the one it happened to."

Now Audra looked perplexed.

"He may not feel right now like the man he was before was real, but he was and he is. He was strong and of all my children, he was and is the most intuitive, and as we all know now the most determined. He has the best chance of finding his way out of this mire he sank into, and the rest of my children are the best ones to help him out."

Audra smiled. "You sound very optimistic."

Victoria shrugged. "I won't fool myself. This is going to be hard and there will be times we go forward and times we go back. But the rest of us are determined, too, and we love him and each other. We'll keep at it. We won't give up on him."

"I'm certain he knows that."

XXXXXXX

Jarrod felt like garbage when he woke up from his nap. He had to hold onto the bannister to get down the stairs and he wandered into the kitchen where his mother was helping Silas begin to prepare dinner. "I feel like I've had too much to drink, and I haven't had anything," he mumbled. "Is there any coffee?"

Silas pointed. "Fresh on the stove, Mr. Jarrod. I thought you might be needing some."

Jarrod chuckled as he poured himself a cup. "Silas, sometimes I think you know us better than we know ourselves. I didn't even look to see what time it was."

"A little after three," Victoria said.

Jarrod moaned. "No wonder I feel like something the cat drug in. I slept for two hours."

"Some warm milk before you retire tonight, Mr. Jarrod," Silas suggested. "I'll have it ready for you."

"Mother?!" Nick's voice came roaring in from the foyer.

Victoria moaned, her hands occupied with chopping up vegetables.

Jarrod winced and said, "I'll get it," and carried his coffee out to the foyer.

Nick and Heath were both there. Nick at least seemed startled to see him.

"What, did you forget I still live here?" Jarrod said with part wickedness, part irony. "Mother is cooking. What do you need?"

"Got the mail," Heath said, lifting up the letters he was holding. "There's a letter here for her from Tom Lightfoot."

"Tom Lightfoot?" Jarrod said in surprise. "My gosh, it's been years."

"Not really," Nick said awkwardly. "While you were gone, Tom got in touch and we told him what happened. He's been writing mother pretty regular ever since."

"Well, how's he doing?" Jarrod asked.

"He's in Washington," Heath said. "He's working for the Federal Department of Indian Affairs as a law clerk for a year, then he'll go back to finish law school."

Jarrod smiled. "That's great!"

"The boy's gonna be the next Ely Parker at the rate he's going," Nick said. "And we saw Fred Madden while we were in town. He heard you were home. He's hoping to see you in a day or two."

"I thought I'd go into town tomorrow. I need to go to the bank, and I could stand to buy a few more clothes that fit me."

"There's something we ought to tell you," Nick said. "We were in such a hurry to get home when the train got in, we didn't mention it but we rented out your office to Peter Cramer, so it's his name you'll be seeing on the window there."

Jarrod nodded. "I figured. Anything else I should know? Do I still have money in the bank?"

"More than you had before, since you haven't spent any."

"Good. I'll probably be getting a bill from the prison in Nevada."

"A bill?" Heath said. "They'd send you a bill?"

"For my upkeep," Jarrod explained. "If you have funds, they'll come get them."

"Wow," Nick said. "That's kinda rubbing salt in the wound, isn't it?"

"Somebody has to pay for me accepting their hospitality," Jarrod said. Then he noticed his brothers looking at each other, frowning. "Don't worry about it. I've been expecting it. But I'd just as soon you not spread it around town. There are people I'd rather not have knowing much more than they already know about me."

"Well, don't give Phil Archer another thought," Heath said. "He moved on up to Sacramento last year. He's in the attorney general's office."

"I'm glad I'm not the attorney general," Jarrod mumbled and broke into a yawn. "Gah - it's gonna take me forever to get my sleep straightened out."

"Well, we won't have you out with the herd by six in the morning just yet," Nick said. "I'm gonna go clean up." He headed up the stairs.

Heath asked Jarrod, "Is that fresh coffee you have there?"

"Silas just made it," Jarrod said.

Heath headed for the kitchen. Jarrod wandered his way into the living room, moving around as he sipped his coffee, looking at the artwork and the family photographs, trying to wake up. He was startled when he came on a photo he was sure had been put away somewhere, but there it was, the photo of him and Beth he had taken in Denver on the day they were married. It shook him to see it there on the little table with other family photos, but he picked it up, and he looked at it. His heart filled with longing and grief and the last three years washed over him. His head spun, but he kept looking, and as he realized why he couldn't stop looking, his eyes filled up.

"I wanted Beth to be part of this family, too," Victoria's voice came.

Jarrod looked back. Victoria and Heath had come in together, and now they both straightened uncomfortably when they saw his tears. Jarrod began to tremble and put both the photo and his coffee cup down on the table, saying in near anguish, "I'd forgotten what she looked like. I'd forgotten - "

It hurt so much he nearly fell down, but Victoria came to him and took him into her arms. Heath didn't exactly know what to do, whether to leave them alone or come to them, but when Victoria looked his way, he knew to stay where he was. He put his own coffee cup down and waited to see what he would be wanted for.

After a few moments, Jarrod straightened and wiped the tears from his face. "I'm sorry. It took me by surprise. Maybe I need to take a walk, get some fresh air before dinner."

Heath saw his role. "Do you want some company?"

Jarrod looked at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Heath picked up his coffee cup. "Grab your coffee. It's way too good to waste."

XXXXXXX

For quite a while they walked together in silence, up along the lane to the Stockton Road, sipping coffee. Jarrod knew his younger brother was not one to make idle conversation. He wouldn't say much unless something important came up or unless he was invited to. For his own part, Heath knew Jarrod would signal him if he wanted to talk but for now he just wanted someone with him. He understood how upsetting seeing his wedding photograph was for his older brother. He understood his part right now was just to be there, just so Jarrod would not have to be alone.

It was a good twenty minutes before Jarrod slowed and then sat down to rest on a large rock beside the road. He finished off the last of his coffee, saying, "I guess I'm more tired than I thought I was. It looks like getting used to a soft bed is gonna be as tough as getting used to a hard bunk was."

"Especially when you haven't been working hard enough to tire yourself out, I guess," heath said.

"I want to get back to working hard, maybe the day after tomorrow, once I get some clothes that fit."

Heath nodded. "Whenever you think you're ready. Give yourself a chance to get some good rest, though. The cattle will always be there."

Jarrod gave a sad half-chuckle. "It's amazing when you realize that things aren't necessarily always gonna be there."

There was room on the rock, so Heath sat down beside him. "You and I both been through the war, Jarrod. We both already found that out."

Jarrod shook his head. "This was different. This was me finding out _I _wasn't always gonna be there." He sighed a little. "Tell me something, Heath. Who do you think I was before all this happened? Inside of me, who was I? I need to know."

"I can understand why you're not sure of yourself," Heath said. "You feel like you been brought down a peg or two."

"More than a peg or two. I ruined - ." He stopped.

"Everything?" Heath asked. "No, not everything. If you ruined everything, you wouldn't be trying so hard to figure it all out. Me and Nick, we could see you trying to work it through even when you were still in jail. You got a head start. Get yourself back to sleeping well, get some time putting some work in on the ranch, spend some time in town with people who know you, and you'll get yourself back together. You'll see who that man inside is. You'll see you're still a lot of the Jarrod Barkley you don't think you are anymore."

"And who is that?"

"Oh," Heath said. "A man I can trust - "

Jarrod's snort made Heath stop. "A man you can trust not to murder you?" he said, full of self-deprecation.

But Heath went on. "A man who doesn't give up. A man who's decent and honest and who helps people. Maybe he slipped off the pedestal for a time, and maybe he ain't always been so good at accepting help himself, but maybe he's learning how to. Maybe he'll find out he's a better man now than the one he thought he was before."

"That's a man I'm gonna have to build. Right now, I don't know what he looks like - any more than I know what Beth looked like."

Heath gave his brother's knee a pat. "I know that hurt you, Jarrod, but she'll come back to you, too. Bit by bit, it'll all come to you, and you'll build that man back up."

Jarrod was silent again, letting what Heath said sink in.

Heath gave him another pat on the knee. "Why don't we head back? I could use a drink a bit stronger than coffee."

Jarrod nodded and got up, and they walked back together as silently as they had come out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jarrod did sleep better that night, so well in fact that it was nearly seven before he woke up. Nick and Heath had already headed out for the day, and Victoria and Audra were at work in the living room, mending socks, when he came down.

"We thought about waking you, but we decided we'd wait until nine or so," Audra said.

"I was out like a light," Jarrod said. "I suppose I'll go see if Silas has anything I can eat."

"Fresh coffee," Victoria said.

"That'll help," Jarrod said.

He wandered off into the kitchen, where Silas had already poured him a cup of coffee and was setting it on the table. "I heard you come down from upstairs, Mr. Jarrod. I thought you'd want that. What may I fix you for breakfast?"

"You're gonna spoil me rotten, Silas," Jarrod said and sat down. "What have you got left over from everyone else's breakfast?"

"A couple biscuits, some honey, and it won't take me long to whip up a couple scrambled eggs," Silas said.

"Can you manage three of them?"

Silas smiled. "Comin' up."

As he worked, Jarrod watched and drank coffee. It was amazing for him to find he missed Silas as much as he missed his family, but he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. The man was a big part of this family, a big part of Jarrod's life since he was a boy. Every time he had a meal in prison, Jarrod couldn't help but think of Silas and wish he could have his cooking instead.

Silas was reading minds again. "I reckon we better figure out a good set of meals for you, to put some of the weight back on you. I expect you didn't get very good food in the prison."

Jarrod appreciated the thought, and he was surprised in a way at the relative ease Silas talked about prison. It made Jarrod a little more humbled and ashamed. "I let you down, old friend."

Silas brought Jarrod a plate of two biscuits and some honey. "Not me, Mr. Jarrod. Yourself, maybe, but not me. I knew you'd come home safe and we'd get everything straightened out before long."

Jarrod felt even more ashamed.

Silas said, "You're a good man, Mr. Jarrod. You went wrong for a spell, but that won't be forever. It might take a while, but you'll see."

"I appreciate your faith in me, Silas," Jarrod said.

Silas smiled. "Just give yourself some time. You'll get some faith in you, too."

Jarrod enjoyed the heck out of the eggs and biscuits, and thanking Silas again, he left to get himself together to go to town. But he had a decision to make before he left the house to go into Stockton. Was he going to wear his sidearm? He stood for a long moment, staring at his holster still hanging in the hallway, where it always hung. His family had brought it back here when he went off to prison, and he knew that no one had touched it since. Was he ready to put it on again yet, knowing what he'd done with it the last time he had it on, seeing his own brother at the end of that barrel?

No. He wasn't. He put his hat on and turned to go, and saw Audra standing there, watching him. He was sure she had noticed what he was clearly thinking, but she didn't pursue it. She just said, "Are you sure you don't want someone to go with you?"

"No, I don't," Jarrod said. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I know you want to help, but there are a couple things I want to do alone."

"All right," Audra said.

Jarrod felt a bit of trepidation, leaving the ranch alone, being free alone. It was ridiculous, he thought. He'd spent a lot of time on his own off the ranch through the years. Now, though, this first time on his own in three years, he felt so uneasy that for a moment, he almost turned back. But he did keep going. If he was going to put his life back together, it was going to have to include doing some things alone, like he'd told Audra. Going into town alone - something he'd done over and over throughout his life, was going to have to lead the way.

It wasn't until he hitched up outside the sheriff's office that he realized what his uneasiness was really about. It wasn't because he was nervous about the law after having been in prison. This was far more personal. Everything about this trip into town was completely personal. He'd be seeing old friends, and old enemies, and facing them with what he had done and where he had been. He was facing familiar people, and it was scary. He remembered the last time he saw Fred Madden, and another wash of shame came over him. He sucked his courage in and went into the sheriff's office, and found Fred Madden there behind his desk, as if he had never left.

Sheriff Madden looked up, and then stood up, and then broke into a big smile and extended his hand. "Jarrod - " was all he said.

Jarrod closed the door behind him and took his old friend's hand. "How are you, Fred?"

"About the same as always," the sheriff said. "Sit down, let me get you some coffee."

"No, thanks," Jarrod said. "I could stand being on my feet for a bit. Not used to a saddle yet."

"How are you doing?" the sheriff asked, sincerely. He really wanted to know.

"Adjusting," Jarrod said, just as sincerely. "I - uh - wanted to talk to you."

"Of course."

"One thing I have to do to get myself back on track is do some apologizing," Jarrod said. "I owe you a big one."

"Jarrod - "

Jarrod shook his head. "The last time we saw each other, three years ago, I was unthinkably out of line. I accused you of not doing your job."

"You were pretty lost at the time."

"That's no excuse. I was crass and I was wrong. I know you did the best you could under the law, as you've always done for all the years I've known you. I want to apologize, sincerely, and I want to make it up to you."

"There's nothing to make up to me," Sheriff Madden said.

"Yes, please, just accept that there is. If the time comes you need me, even though it can't be as a lawyer, please call on me. I mean that."

The sheriff really did have no hard feelings about the things Jarrod had said to him the last time they were together, when he had to tell Jarrod he'd released Cass Hyatt. He knew this first meeting with Jarrod was going to be awkward, even hard, but Jarrod's apology took him by surprise. The sheriff was touched that after all he'd been through, Jarrod would want to be of help to him. "Thanks, Jarrod. I know you do."

They talked a little longer about mundane things - about people they both knew, about the interesting and even boring things that had happened over the past three years. About people and businesses coming and going. Jarrod found it relaxing, just to chat idly with an old friend. It almost seemed like old times. When it came time to leave, Jarrod was almost sorry about it, but he and the sheriff both had other things to do.

"Remember," Jarrod said, offering his hand as he left. "If you need me, let me know."

"You do the same, Jarrod," Sheriff Madden said. "I'm here if you need me too. And welcome home, old friend."

Jarrod nodded, not knowing how to thank his friend for giving him this time and this forgiveness. He just said, "Thanks, Fred."

XXXXXXXX

At the bank, Jarrod also received a warm welcome from the manager, a man he'd known for years, and even more offers of help if he needed it. The story was the same at the tailor shop and the general store. Old friends greeted him as if it wasn't prison he'd gone to, but just some long absence off in Washington or San Francisco. After getting money and new clothes, and talking to the tailor about altering one of his suits, Jarrod was ready for a beer and a sandwich at Harry's. The bartender's eyes lit up when Jarrod came in - even if few of the six or seven patrons seemed to share the sentiment.

"Jarrod Barkley!" Harry cried. "God bless you, man, it's good to see you!"

Jarrod couldn't help but smile as Harry reached his hand across the bar. Jarrod shook hands with him. "Harry, you haven't changed a bit."

"You have," Harry said. "But you didn't need to lose the pounds. I coulda stood to."

"I did it the hard way and never want to do it again," Jarrod said. "How about a beer and a sandwich?"

Harry pointed to the plate of sandwiches at the end of the bar. "I just put them out fresh, and it's all on me."

"Aw, you don't have to do that - "

"I insist," Harry said and drew a beer for Jarrod.

Jarrod fetched a sandwich and took his meal at the bar, noticing that he was getting looks from the other patrons. They made him uncomfortable. He remembered the "welcome" Keno Nash had gotten when he came here after nine years at San Quentin. Keno had moved on now, reestablishing himself as a free man and then leaving the area while Jarrod was in prison, but Keno endured a lot of harsh treatment when he first got out of prison. Jarrod remembered it too well.

_I'm just out of prison_, Jarrod thought, and it chilled him to say that to himself. _I'm just like Keno was._

"So, what are you up to?" Harry asked. "Nick and Heath told me all about the chores they had lined up for you."

Jarrod laughed. "Well, they haven't told me yet. They're cutting me some slack until I rest up, I guess, that or get my rear end used to a saddle again."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know about you tending herd for a living, Counselor."

Jarrod physically jerked a little at being called "counselor." He hadn't been called that since Beth called him that, the day she died. He lost his smile for a moment.

Harry noticed. "Oh. I'm sorry. I guess you're still a bit uncomfortable with not being a lawyer. It was just habit, Jarrod."

Jarrod tried smiling again, but it wasn't as genuine. "It's all right, Harry. I got a lot of things to adjust to, and that's just one of them. I'd just as soon my friends get me adjusted to them, rather than my enemies."

Harry gave a glance to his other customers. "Yeah. You're gonna have a tough time now and then. But you're always welcome here, Jarrod. If I give you a tough time, it'll be by accident, not because I mean to."

Jarrod's smile grew more real. "I know that, Harry. And I appreciate it."

Jarrod finished his sandwich and beer, bid Harry good-bye and headed on out. For a moment, he considered visiting with Peter Cramer in what used to be his office, but he didn't. He wasn't ready for that. He decided he'd had enough getting accustomed to Stockton again for this first day here and headed home.

"How did it go in town?" Victoria asked him the moment he came in the door.

He put his packages down on the table and his hat atop them. "Fine. I talked to Fred and had a beer and a sandwich with Harry, and I got myself some more clothes that fit and a new pair of boots. I'm a little bit more of that new-made man."

"You look tired."

"A little bit, maybe, but I'm fine. It was good to get back into things. Why don't I clean up and get into some of these better fitting clothes?"

"All right. I'll be starting dinner with Silas. Your brothers and sister should be coming back in in the next few hours."

"Where did Audra go?" Jarrod asked as he picked up his hat and packages.

"Over to the Marshall's," Victoria said. "Cary Marshall is getting married next month and she's helping out with the arrangements."

Jarrod looked a little startled. Cary Marshall and her husband Joe had been clients of his. "What happened to Joe?"

"Oh, I guess we didn't tell you, I'm sorry," Victoria said. "Joe died a year ago of lockjaw."

Jarrod looked stunned. Lockjaw was an awful way to die, and Joe Marshall had been a young man. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Victoria could tell he was genuinely disturbed. She smiled and tried to put him at ease as she said, "Cary is marrying Peter Cramer."

That did make Jarrod smile. "That's good for both of them," he said.

Victoria said, "I suppose there are a few other social happenings we ought to tell you about. Did Audra - ." Victoria hesitated a bit on this one.

"Did Audra what?"

"Well, perhaps I ought to let her tell you about it if she hasn't yet."

Jarrod grew suspicious. "Is she seeing someone?"

Victoria nodded. "The new court clerk, Abel Teague, but I'd better let her tell you."

Jarrod found himself alarmed at his inner reaction to this. Audra seeing someone and not saying a word to him about it, even on their ride the day before. He suddenly felt terribly shut out.

Victoria saw it in his eyes. "Don't read anything into it, Jarrod. You've only been home a couple days. She probably just hasn't felt like it was right to talk to you about it yet."

Jarrod understood, intellectually, but he still felt suddenly apart again, suddenly kept out. But he said, "You're probably right."

Victoria could tell he still wasn't letting it go, but she didn't know what else to say. There were going to be awkward moments like this, she realized. There were going to be times that Jarrod had to swallow things that were touchy for him to swallow. She decided, wisely, to let Jarrod and Audra work this one out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?"

There was nothing light in Jarrod's voice when he asked Audra to step outside with him after dinner. It was almost accusatory.

Audra didn't know what to say, and she fumbled.

Jarrod said, "Mother told me. Why didn't you?"

Audra nervously said, "I don't know. It just hasn't seemed right yet."

"We talked about a lot of things yesterday," Jarrod said.

"Yes, but we were focused on you. That seemed right. After all, you just got home, and to talk about myself just seemed selfish."

Jarrod still seemed cold as ice about it. "I even asked you how things were with you, didn't I? You could have told me then. Why didn't you?"

"Jarrod, what are you saying?"

"I'm trying to figure out what you're saying." Jarrod realized he was starting to sound angry, but he really didn't know why, except that he thought Audra was intentionally shutting him out.

"I'm saying that it didn't seem right to bring it up," Audra said.

"Why didn't it?" he asked.

"Jarrod, he's just someone I'm seeing. We're not engaged or anything."

Jarrod still pressed. "Didn't you trust me?"

Audra was startled. "What?"

"What did you think I was going to say? Did you think i was going to grill him or something?"

"Well, that's what you always do!" Now Audra felt unleashed. Jarrod was digging into this like he used to cross-examine witnesses - and like he used to cross examine her, when she was younger. And that was it. She wasn't younger anymore, and she resented him acting like she was. "Jarrod, I grew up while you were gone! Yesterday you seemed to know that! You treated me like a sister and now you're trying to treat me like a daughter again! But I'm not your daughter! I never was!"

Jarrod straightened. That hurt.

Audra could see it in his eyes, and she felt dreadful for saying that, but it was said. She couldn't take it back, and she realized she shouldn't. Instead, she took his hand. "Yesterday, you talked to me like an adult, like I was your sister. It wasn't the time for you to be my father again, and Jarrod - I know you've changed. You need to know that I have too. I grew up. I learned to take care of myself, especially where men are concerned."

He started to say something.

But Audra went on. "Yes, men! Not boys! I'm sorry if it hurts you that I'm not the little girl you left behind three years ago and I'm sorry more than I can say that you missed these years with me, because I missed you, too. I'm sorry you have to adjust to a new you and now I'm making you adjust to a new me, but I'm not your daughter. I'm your sister, your adult sister. You are my brother and I love you more than I can say, and now we need to build on that, not on a past that's gone."

Jarrod lowered his gaze. She was right. Everything she said was right. He squeezed her hand. "Of course I know all that, and I'm sorry. I've just been so focused on straightening myself out, I forgot – I forgot what I knew. I'm not your pappy anymore. And I really don't have any right to be."

"Oh, no, Jarrod, that's not it."

"That's at least partly it. I missed these years that were most important to you through my own actions. You grew up without me. I wasn't there."

"But you're here now. We will work it out now."

Jarrod took a shuddering breath. "It's difficult, Audra."

"It's only been two days, Jarrod. And I know, I'm going to make mistakes, and I'm sorry. But you know, you'll always be my pappy."

"But not the one I was before."

"No," Audra said. "But that's not all bad, is it? We're building something new, a new family, a new you." She saw the loss in his eyes, but she saw the acceptance too, as hard as it was for him. She quickly kissed him on the cheek, and she said, "Abel is a sweet and gentle man, and he treats me like I'm a sweet and gentle woman. You don't need to worry about him."

Jarrod gave a little smile. "I suppose Nick and Heath have given him the okay."

Audra nodded. "And Mother."

"All right," Jarrod said, taking a deeper breath. "I am firmly moved to the right track again. Thank you, my darling sister."

Audra said, "He's coming to dinner on Sunday. You can meet him then."

Jarrod smiled and nodded. "I promise not to cross examine him."

"Thank you," Audra said, and smiled.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod got a good night's sleep and was up with everyone else for breakfast at five, where he announced, "I want to go out with you boys today, so if you have something particular in mind for me to be doing, now's the time to talk about it."

Nick and Heath looked at each other, then Nick said, "Just riding herd, I think, if you're up to that."

Jarrod nodded, and before long he was out with the cattle and the rest of the men. Heath took off as soon as they arrived, but Nick stayed with his older brother, and immediately started issuing instructions.

"I don't want you overdoing," Nick said. "This is your first day out, so plan on putting in about four or five hours and then heading home by lunch."

Jarrod immediately flared up. "Nick – "

"No," Nick said. "I'm the boss out here and you know it. You know what to do riding herd, but you don't know yet how much time you're up to it. When I tell you to go in, you go in."

Jarrod's immediate reaction carried him right back to prison. Here was another man telling him exactly what to do and when to do it. Jarrod had to work hard to keep his reaction controlled and sensible, but he was furious. "Nick, I think I can judge how much I can do and how long I can stay out here."

"I'm the boss out here, Jarrod – "

"But you're not my jailor!"

Nick flinched at that.

Jarrod saw the flinch and kept at him. "What the hell do you think I've been doing for the last three years? Lying around in a hammock? I've been working hard in the hot sun or a hot kitchen or a hot laundry or a hot shoe factory, all day long, every day! You think that one week in solitary did me in? I'm a free man, Nick! I can make the call for myself whether I'm too worn out to keep working out here, but this picayune little day in the saddle is nothing compared to what I've been doing! I'll make the call for myself, what I can do and what I can't do!"

Nick's flinch turned into a bit of a guilty retreat.

Jarrod eased off. "Nick, I know you're the boss and you mean to look out for me, but I can look out for myself. I'm a free man."

Nick nodded, contrite, stung by Jarrod reminding him he was free. For so long, his big brother hadn't been a free man. He didn't need his kid brother acting like he wasn't one. "All right, Jarrod. You're right. You make the call. But if you fall out of the saddle, all bets are off."

Jarrod accepted the terms of Nick's surrender and smiled a little. "I won't fall out of the saddle."

Jarrod rode off to take position around the herd.

Heath couldn't hear the exchange between his brothers, but he could see it, the gesticulations, the stiff backs, the movements he knew said that Jarrod and Nick were arguing. Heath didn't have to guess about what. Nick had been talking all day for the past two days about making sure Jarrod was all right out here. Heath knew that meant Nick was about to call the shots. He tried to ease him off of that, but it didn't work, and now he knew his two older brothers had come to words. But Jarrod rode off to work, and Nick looked a little slumped. That told Heath to ride over and see to Nick.

"Jarrod beat you out on that one, didn't he?" Heath said as soon as he arrived at Nick's side.

"I guess I got a little too protective," Nick said. "He cut me down a peg, reminded me he was a free man and could make his own decisions."

That made Heath wince. "He might not be a lawyer anymore, Nick, but he still has the skills."

"Yeah, he kinda pulled out the big guns on me. But darn it, Heath, he is the most stubborn, mule-headed – "

Heath's big grin made Nick stop. "Kinda nice having some of the old Jarrod back, isn't it?"

Nick gave in and had to smile too. "Yeah, it is."

Jarrod did not fall out of the saddle. He might have been a little saddle sore at the end of the day, but the past couple days riding had helped to get him used to things again. One thing he couldn't get used to as the day wore on, though, was how rough he'd been on Nick. Not just today, either. From the moment he slugged Nick out more than three years ago in the library, to the moment he held him at gunpoint in Rimfire, to his surliness today – he'd been rough on Nick. And he honestly couldn't remember if he had apologized one bit for any of it.

Late in the day, he rode up beside his younger brother. Nick was wondering if Jarrod was tiring, because his head was hanging a bit and he was slumping, too. "Doing all right?" Nick asked.

"Yes," Jarrod said, "but no. I was ornery with you earlier. I was out of line."

"No, you weren't," Nick said in a little sing-song. "I had it coming."

"Maybe a little," Jarrod said. "But I overreacted. I'm sorry."

Nick gave a small grin. "Forget it."

"And I owe you more apologies," Jarrod said.

"For what?"

"For slugging you out three years ago, for making you chase me all over California, for trying to kill you in Rimfire."

Nick said, "Yeah, well now, I expect you don't remember you did apologize to me for all that once or twice already."

"My head is still a bit not screwed on straight," Jarrod admitted.

Nick smiled a little at him. "You just apologize whenever you feel like it, Pappy. I'll keep forgiving you."

Jarrod accepted the forgiveness with a slight smile and a nod.

The next couple days following the same routine made Jarrod feel more like himself, even if it was a self riding herd and not riding court. It was good to be in the fresh air, working with his brothers, getting sweaty with honest effort and not with punishment. He slept better, he ate better, he felt better. A few surly flare-ups reminded him he still had a long way to go, but at least he felt like he was going in the right direction.

XXXXXXX

Sunday came, and Jarrod went to church with the family, but he was decidedly uncomfortable. Too many people seemed to be looking at him like he didn't belong here. Only a handful came up to him and said it was good to see him again. Thankfully, the minister said nothing from the pulpit, but did shake his hand as the family left together, and said, "It's good to have you home, Jarrod. You've been missed."

Jarrod almost said _Not by everybody_, but he kept it to himself and just thanked the minister. Then he walked with Audra and said, "I thought we might see Abel here."

"He goes to the Catholic church," Audra said. "But we'll see him at the house in a couple hours. I'm really looking forward to you meeting him."

"I'm looking forward to it too, and I'll try not to pull Pappy out on him."

Audra smiled. "A little Pappy won't hurt – just try not to bowl him over."

Jarrod laughed. "I promise to be more the big brother than the father, for good now."

It was a little before one o'clock when the knock came on the door. Audra looked nervous as Silas let Abel Teague in and took his hat, but she approached him in the foyer and gave him a welcoming kiss. Jarrod noted the smiles on the faces of the rest of the family, the kiss Abel gave Victoria on the cheek, the handshakes with Nick and Heath. And then it was time to meet Jarrod.

Jarrod extended his hand to the young man, a good-looking and mostly confident fellow who seemed just a little bit nervous. "Abel, I'm pleased to meet you," Jarrod said.

"I'm pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Barkley," Abel said.

"Jarrod, please," Jarrod said.

"I've been hoping you'd stop by the court clerk's office," Abel said. "Everyone's abuzz about your homecoming and anxious to see you. You are well thought of and people have missed you."

"Well," Jarrod said, wondering what else to say. He ended up with, "Since I don't practice law anymore, I haven't had any reason to stop by, and my brothers have been keeping me busy on the ranch. It seems they're short-handed and need me to step up and take the reins."

"Please do stop by if you get the chance, though," Abel said.

"Maybe sometime later this week," Jarrod said.

"Some sherry, Abel?" Nick asked.

"Yes, thank you," Abel said and sat down with Audra on the settee, while Victoria took one of the armchairs and Jarrod took his old "thinking chair."

Jarrod felt the awkwardness that Audra in particular was generating, so he turned the conversation to Abel without any attempt to drill. "So, how do you like being court clerk? Is it every bit as dull as it ever was?"

Quiet laughter went all around. Audra squeezed Abel's arm. Abel smiled and said, "It'll do while I save up money to go to law school."

Jarrod perked up. "Law school? You plan to be a lawyer?"

"Yes, I do," Abel said. "Within five years if I can stick to my plan and save the proper money."

Jarrod looked at Audra with a little smile. "You didn't mention that, Audra."

"I asked her not to," Abel said quickly. "Given how respected you are in the courthouse, I wanted to save telling you for when I met you for myself. I hope you don't mind a would-be lawyer courting your sister."

Jarrod's smile grew, and it was genuine. "Not at all, Abel. Not at all."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After a fine Sunday supper and a few relaxing games of pool, Abel took Audra out for a walk before he headed back to town, giving Nick and Heath the opportunity to look toward their older brother with a couple of self-satisfied smugs. "Well, how did we do?" Nick asked.

"How did you do?" Jarrod asked. "_What_ did you do?"

"Looked out for our little sister," Heath said.

Jarrod chuckled, even if he felt a little sting at being reminded he hadn't been there. "Well, as our little sister reminded me earlier in the week, she grew up in my absence, and she can look out for herself just fine. Abel seems like a fine young man."

"He is," Nick said. "We checked him out good. Comes from a good family from St. Louis, took schooling back east and really does intend to become a lawyer."

"We thought you might like that part," Heath said.

"As long as he treats Audra right and she likes him, he could be a store clerk for the rest of his life and I'd be happy," Jarrod said. "But I do intend to get to know him a bit better. I haven't given up all my Pappy responsibilities – assuming it's all right if I still have any."

Returning the sting. Both Nick and Heath looked a little guilty, but Jarrod gave them a smile and let them off the hook.

XXXXXXXX

The next week or so had its ups and downs, but generally moved in the right direction. Jarrod went to town once, alone to get supplies. Fewer people stopped to say hello, although the barber welcomed him boisterously when he stopped in for a trim and Harry at the saloon had a good word for him, even if again this time the three or four patrons he had didn't have anything to say. He touched base with the sheriff again, but Fred Madden had a loud-mouthed disturber of the peace in his jail that was frustrating him no end, so Jarrod kept his visit brief.

Late in the week, out on the range, Nick said, "How about we go into town tonight and play some poker?"

Jarrod felt uneasy for a moment. He remembered not getting much of a welcome from Harry's customers either time he'd been to the bar since he got home, but then he thought _the hell with them. I still remember how to play poker._ "Good idea," he said.

Entering a saloon that was going full blast was something else entirely, though. Jarrod felt like a fish out of water, like this was the first time he'd gone into a busy saloon at night when he'd done it hundreds of times. He got even more nervous when Heath looked his way and he realized he had stopped dead just inside the door.

"Okay?" Heath asked.

Jarrod reached for some lame excuse for his actions, or lack of them. "Not used to the noise," he came up with and left it at that, even though it wasn't just the noise. It was all the people, all the girls in short skirts, all the color and the smell of all the beer. It was everything.

Heath gave him a slap on the back, and Nick led the way to a table where a game was going on but where three places were still available. "Got room for Barkley money?" Nick asked.

"Any time," the dealer at the moment said, and the three men at the table looked up at the newcomers.

All three of them glanced over Nick and Heath as they sat down, but let their gazes settle uncomfortably on Jarrod.

Jarrod decided to just go with whatever was coming. He sat down and took his wallet out of the inside of his jacket. He pulled out money, saying, "I take it you boys still accept greenbacks."

The dealer was a man named Eberline who owned a small ranch right at the edge of town. He did not smile, but said, "Rules ain't changed much since you been gone." That was it. No welcome home, no glad to see you, but then Eberline had never been a gregarious sort.

"What are the limits?" Jarrod asked.

"Five and ten," Eberline said.

The Barkley men each put five into the pot, and Eberline dealt. From then on it was a pretty run of the mill game. Nick found a saloon girl to fetch them beer and to put his arm around. Heath gave a smile to another girl who rubbed his shoulders for him. Jarrod eyed both girls, but did not know either one of them, and for that matter, none of the other girls looked familiar either. But they seemed to know him, and they looked as wary as the players did.

After half an hour or so, Jarrod found the noise and general business getting to him. He said, "I'm going outside for a smoke," and got up. It caused Eberline to raise an eyebrow – who left a saloon for a smoke when all you had to do in here was breathe in all the other cigars and cigarettes? Nick and Heath both watched Jarrod go, but let him go.

Once outside, Jarrod lit up and stepped away from the door, but did not stray far. He had lost a little money and felt decidedly uncomfortable, but not about the money. About himself. About feeling like an unknown quantity in a saloon he'd been frequenting for most of his life. About girls who stared but kept their distance and men who would not talk much. About the fact that the whole place was making him irritable.

Everybody knew he was a convict. He felt eyes on him all the time. He thought he ought to feel lucky no one tried to beat him up, but then with Nick and Heath around, no one would try. Men went inside the saloon and men came out, but Jarrod finished his cigar before he went back in. His seat at the table was taken, so he went up to the bar and got another beer from Harry.

"How's it been going, Jarrod?" Harry asked.

"Moving along," Jarrod said. "Good and crowded in here tonight."

"You look a little uneasy," Harry said. "Too many people for you?"

"Maybe," Jarrod admitted with a little smile. "There's a lot to get used to all over again, Harry."

"Yeah, I can believe that," Harry said.

After a while, a spot opened up at another table. Jarrod found himself a little nervous about sitting down without his brothers there, but he did it anyway. "Got room for me?" he asked.

"Got money?" the stranger who was dealing asked.

Jarrod pulled his wallet out again and played cards until he found a tap on his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed that the crowd was beginning to thin out and that Nick and Heath were up and ready to leave. He was kind of glad about that, to not have noticed, to have gotten so interested in the game that the awkwardness had disappeared without him knowing it. "Time to hit the trail, Jarrod," Nick said.

"Let me finish losing this hand," Jarrod said, and the men at the table with him actually chuckled a little.

Jarrod did lose it, and got up and bid everyone good night. But now he was noticing again, and feeling awkward again, and when they left the saloon, he was glad to be leaving. He said very little as they left town together.

"So how was it?" Nick asked when they got home and came into the house. The lights inside were dimmed. It was late, and their mother and sister had gone to bed.

"How was what?" Jarrod asked.

"Your first night out on the town," Nick said.

Jarrod shrugged. "I lost too much money," he said. He did not want to talk about how awkward he felt.

Heath gave him a slap on the shoulder. "Had too much to drink?"

Jarrod eyed his brothers with a smile. "Not as much as the two of you have had."

"Good," Heath said. "You can drag the two of us to work in the morning."

They began to head upstairs, and Jarrod began to feel more comfortable, being home. "What time do you want me to wake you up?" he asked.

"Ha!" Nick laughed. "We'll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as usual, Pappy. See you at breakfast."

After falling into bed, Jarrod stared at the moonlit ceiling and wished this evening had gone a bit better, but he realized it really couldn't have. At least no fights had broken out and no one tried to bad mouth him to his face. Maybe that was the best he could expect in a room full of men with too much drink and girls who had little use for ex-convicts. Then he wondered how many of the people he hadn't recognized in Harry's – and there were quite a few – even knew he'd been in prison. And then he felt like dirt. _God, I've been in prison_. He felt something wash over him that made him feel those words were going to define him forever. Maybe people would get used to him as time wore on, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to himself. He fell asleep, feeling out of place in this world. He had heard some men in prison say that they felt more like they belonged there than out on the street, and for the first time, he actually understood the feeling.

XXXXXX

For the next few weeks, Jarrod got his butt used to the saddle again, got used to working the ranch again, got used to the soft bed and the good food and put on some weight and some muscle. He gradually went to town more frequently, even went in to play poker with his brothers a couple more times. The other players in the games weren't always Jarrod's friends, but Jarrod avoided fights, even with the men who were downright ornery. He and Heath did have to break Nick out of one fight, but that was it. People in town got used to seeing him again, and despite his fears that he'd never get rid of the feeling that he belonged more in prison than in town, he gradually got used to being there.

He even managed to get over his reluctance and take himself to the courthouse to say hello to Abel and all the people he used to see almost daily. A few brief conversations with Abel, watching him do his job, seeing how he interacted with friends he used to know made Jarrod more secure about the man. He was good at his job and good to the people under him. Jarrod respected that.

The one thing Jarrod couldn't bring himself to do, even after eight weeks went by, was visit Peter Cramer in his office, Jarrod's own office once. Jarrod realized it was because he still yearned to be a lawyer, not a cowhand, and he was forever shut out from that. The memories would be too strong if he saw someone else behind his desk, reading his books, doing work he should have been doing. He was grateful it was Peter, a young man he respected and trusted, but it still just hurt too much to face not being a lawyer. Never again a lawyer.

On a trip to the courthouse, Jarrod ran into Judge Farnham. In all these weeks, he hadn't seen the man, but now he saw him coming into the building as Jarrod was leaving. It shook Jarrod a little bit. He'd been before Judge Farnham more than he'd been before any other judge, and now, here he was in front of the jurist he trusted and admired and he wasn't a lawyer. Instead, he was an ex-convict. He felt uncomfortable. He looked awkward.

Judge Farnham smiled and extended his hand. "Jarrod, it's good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been by the ranch to say hello, but I was out of town for a bit, and some complications have come up here in town. You know how it can get."

Jarrod shook his hand. "I know all about complications, your honor. It's good to see you again."

"I'm only sorry I won't be seeing you practicing before me anymore."

Jarrod nodded, a bit sadly, but didn't say anything. It was just too embarrassing.

"I hope things are beginning to work themselves out for you," Judge Farnham said.

"It's a long haul, but things are progressing, even if they are out on the range and not in the courtroom," Jarrod said.

"If I can do anything for you, Jarrod - "

Jarrod nodded again. "Just keep wishing me well, Judge."

"I'll do that."

Jarrod knew nothing about Judge Farnham's complications, but then judges always had problems that were no one else's business, so Jarrod just forgot about them. He went over to the sheriff's office to say hello and found Sheriff Madden coming up the street, heading toward him. The sheriff looked unhappy, but then when he spotted Jarrod it was like a light going on in his head. "Just the man I want to see!"

"Those are happy words for my old ears," Jarrod said. "What can I do for you?"

"Come on inside. I have a proposition for you."

XXXXXX

"So, do you think you can spare me for a couple days?" Jarrod asked his brothers as the family gathered before dinner. He had explained what the sheriff wanted him to do and that he thought he could do it without any trouble.

The family still looked at each other at little doubtfully. It was Nick who said, "Are you sure you really want to escort a prisoner to jail?"

"It's only to Lodi," Jarrod said.

"That's not the point."

"I know what the point is," Jarrod said. "You're afraid it's still too touchy for me to have anything to do with a man in chains or putting him in a jail cell, but I've been in the courthouse and been talking to Fred enough that I think that's one hump I'm just about over. Doing this might get me all the way over."

"It is fairly easy," Heath said. "Jarrod might be right. It might be what the doctor ordered."

"When would you go?" Victoria asked.

"Tomorrow," Jarrod said. "I'll stay over and be back the next day."

"And you want to do this?"

Jarrod nodded. "I do."

"You want one of us to go with you?" Nick asked, but knew the answer he'd get.

"No," Jarrod said. "It'll help me out more if I do it on my own." He looked around. No one said anything. "This is a pretty easy job. I can do this. I want to help Fred."

"All right," Nick said. "Not that you needed our permission anyway."

"I wasn't asking permission," Jarrod said. "I just didn't want to do it behind your back."

"You already agreed to do it," Audra said.

Jarrod nodded. "I told Fred Madden when I first saw him again that I wanted to make up for my horrible behavior toward him when Beth died and he let Cass Hyatt go. This is a way I can do that. But I also told him I'd talk to you about it and if you objected, I'd have to turn him down."

"I can't argue with any of that," Nick said. "Just be careful on the road."

"I'll be fine," Jarrod said. "So, we're all agreed? I'll go?"

Everyone nodded, even if not enthusiastically.

Jarrod said, "It's settled then. I'll be off in the morning."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jarrod picked up his charge the next morning at the Stockton jail. He didn't know this prisoner - Sheriff Madden hadn't let him talk to the man the day before. Jarrod had to admit that seeing a man in manacles again was a little unnerving. He hadn't seen such a sight since he left prison, but after a few minutes it wasn't so bad. He and the sheriff got the man mounted up. Sheriff Madden thanked him and gave him a pat on the arm, and Jarrod took off to Lodi with his prisoner.

The man was not very talkative, but then neither was Jarrod. It took hours to get to Lodi. They didn't even talk when they took a break to eat or rest the horses. When they finally arrived, Jarrod got them hitched in front of the jail and was getting his prisoner dismounted when the sheriff came out.

Jarrod had known the sheriff for years. What he didn't know was whether the sheriff knew he'd been to prison or not, but the sheriff was cheerful and came out of his office with his hand extended. "Jarrod Barkley! How did you get roped into prisoner delivery?"

"Doing a favor for Fred Madden, Harold," Jarrod said. He handed the sheriff the keys to the prisoner's manacles.

"Any trouble along the way?"

"Not a stitch. I'll go get a room at the hotel, rest up and head home tomorrow."

"It's been good to see you again. Come spend some more time up here soon, okay?"

Jarrod smiled. If the sheriff knew he'd been to prison, it didn't seem to bother him. "I'll do that."

Jarrod took his horse to the local livery stable and then took his saddle bags to the hotel, where he got a room and swore to himself that this felt just like old times. How often had he done this as an attorney and a businessman, checked into a hotel and gotten himself some dinner and a good rest before facing another day? There was something relaxing about it, something so familiar it made him feel like he used to feel - important, useful, capable, real. After checking in he took a walk around town and got some dinner, then took in a card game at his favorite saloon. Nobody knew him there. Nobody cared who he was, and nobody was unfriendly. They just drank, had a few laughs, and played cards. God, it felt good. God, he finally began to really feel free.

XXXXXXXX

He rode home the next day and took his sweet time doing it. Arriving at Stockton, he checked in with Fred Madden, who asked right away, "How'd it go? Any trouble?"

"None," Jarrod said. "Your prisoner hardly said a word. I got him to Sheriff Clayton, had a nice room and a nice dinner and made a few dollars at poker."

"I'll bet that felt good."

"Just like the good old days," Jarrod said. He shook the sheriff's hand. "Thanks for letting me do that for you, Fred. It made me feel useful again."

"Oh, I'm sure you're useful on the ranch."

"Yes, I know, but it isn't the same. I didn't know until yesterday how good it felt to believe I was helping the law."

He headed on home, arriving not long after Nick and Heath came in from the field, and he'd barely gotten in the front door before they were practically on top of him. "How did it go?" Nick asked. "Any trouble?"

"None at all," Jarrod said, dropping his saddle bags at the foot of the steps, then taking his hat and gun belt to the hall to hang up.

Nick and Heath didn't follow, but raised their eyebrows and smiled at Victoria and Audra in the living room. When Jarrod came back toward them, Heath gave him a slap on the back. They all headed into the living room, where Jarrod poured himself a scotch.

"I know Sheriff Madden appreciated your help," Victoria said.

"I appreciated him letting me help," Jarrod said. "Helping the law again was good. It wasn't anything like being a lawyer, but it was working around the edges." Then he got a wistful look in his eye.

They all knew how much he missed practicing law. It had been his whole life, after all, and they knew how horrible he felt to know he had thrown it away. But no one wanted to say anything about it right now. They didn't know what to say.

"Glad you're home safe and sound," Heath ended up saying.

"Were you worried?" Jarrod asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

"Not worried," Heath said. "Just - curious."

Jarrod laughed a little. "I don't believe you for a minute," he said and slapped Heath on the back. "But thanks for the concern. I was fine. It was good for me." He raised his glass. "Here's to Fred Madden for letting me work for the law."

"To Fred," everyone said, raising their glasses.

XXXXX

The next few weeks went by as ordinarily as weeks do. Nick spent a few days away on a trip to one of the mines, but Jarrod begged off any such work for the family. Maybe he was capable, but he wasn't ready, not deep inside himself. He continued to work on the ranch, ran errands to town, got to know Abel Teague even better but felt cringes every time he was near the courthouse. His attitude was generally on the upward swing, but now and then irritation crept in, and he was ornery and cross, mostly with Nick and Heath in the field. He skipped Cary Marshall's and Peter Cramer's wedding – something about a wedding just stuck in him, reminded him of his own, and he didn't want to face it. Just the concept put him in a foul and tired mood.

"Maybe you ought to break away for a few days," Heath suggested. "Give yourself a little trip to San Francisco or something like that."

Heath's suggestion reminded Jarrod of something he hadn't even thought about. "My place in San Francisco – did you sell it?"

Nick shook his head. "Rented it out. The lease has another four months or so to run, but maybe a few nights at the Palace would do you better anyway."

Jarrod shook his head. "I still don't feel much like having a holiday. There's too much work for me here."

His brothers knew he didn't mean out in the field. He meant self-repair work. He was making progress, but there was still a lot to do to get to get to know that man inside again, to figure out who he was and what he was worth.

It helped that Sheriff Madden asked him for help a couple more times – once with a young man from a neighboring ranch who was getting into trouble a little too often. No trouble worth arresting him over, but the sheriff wanted to make sure it didn't get that far. Jarrod knew the boy and his parents, and the sheriff asked him to visit and have a chat.

It really didn't take much talking on Jarrod's part to wake the kid up. The difficulty was for Jarrod to explain his experience in prison, scaring Randy Hill enough to shake him but not terrify him. His parents insisted on being with them as Jarrod talked to him, so Jarrod had good reason for reining himself in. The boy's father, Ronald Hill, paced around a lot. His mother, April Hill, sat and listened but Jarrod could see she was stewing. He explained to Randy as straightforwardly as he could why he should straighten himself out before he was slapped into prison. He really got through when he described the punishment hole, and he described it so graphically that all three Hills looked alarmed.

"You don't want to go there," Jarrod finished up. "If you do, the experience will follow you around for the rest of your life. Every dark room will turn into the punishment hole. Every morning you wake up will shake you to the core, thinking there's a guard waiting to haul you off to do work you don't want to do in the heat and the dust, all day long. Randy, stop your bad behavior. Toe the line before it's too late."

Ronald took his son off outside after that, to put the seal on the lesson. Alice Hill escorted Jarrod to the door, saying, "Jarrod – thank you for this. I know it hasn't been easy for you to talk to Randy so bluntly. I can't imagine how you just did it, after what happened to you."

"What happened to me I earned," Jarrod said. "If I can keep a kid like Randy from earning the same thing, I won't mind reliving it."

"You're a good man, Jarrod," Alice said. "No matter what went wrong, no matter what you did to end up in prison, you're a good man at heart. Thank you for talking to us."

Jarrod gave a slight smile and a nod, and he left. As he rode home, he felt a curious mix of relief, of having done something worthwhile, but of that ever-present shame, too. Maybe the shame was lessening, but Jarrod knew it was never going to go away entirely. It would always be part of him. The best he could do was what he was doing – use it to help someone else, use it to help people and the law.

He had promised to report back to Sheriff Madden and went into town before going home. He went into the sheriff's office and told him how things had gone. "So I'm hopeful I shook the boy up enough to keep him thinking about prison before he gets into trouble," Jarrod said. "If he needs refresher lessons, I'll be happy to give it another shot or two."

Sheriff Madden nodded. "You know – whatever you think you owed me, you've paid back. Escorting that prisoner, talking to Randy, helping me question those other two I had in here - "

"It's not just owing you anymore, Fred," Jarrod said. "The truth is – the things you've asked me to do have been the closest things I can do to practicing law again."

"You miss it."

"Very much," Jarrod said. "But some penalties for what I did are permanent. I have to live with that."

"I wish I knew of some way – "

Before he finished, the door opened again, and Judge Farnham came in. He looked a bit preoccupied, a bit startled to see Jarrod there, a bit uncomfortable. Jarrod got the message. The judge needed to speak to the Sheriff alone.

"Well, I'll be on my way," Jarrod said and headed for the door.

But Judge Farnham suddenly said, "No, Jarrod, stay. Some of this has to do with you, and frankly, I could use some of your advice again on something else."

Jarrod had given Judge Farnham some informal advice on a couple of occasions since he'd come home. He wasn't practicing law in doing it, just practicing informed common sense. When Judge Farnham motioned for him to sit down, Jarrod sat in one of the chairs in front of the sheriff's desk. Judge Farnham sat in the other.

"How did that trip to Sacramento go?" Sheriff Madden asked.

"That's what I want to talk about, but first, Jarrod, I want you to know I went behind your back on something," Judge Farnham said.

Jarrod raised an eyebrow.

"It wasn't planned," the judge said. "I ran into Bentley Berman up there."

Jarrod knew exactly who that was – the chairman of the Board that oversaw admissions to the bar – and disbarments.

Judge Farnham went on. "I talked to him about you, about how helpful you've been to me and to Fred since you got back, how you haven't been in a bit of trouble. I asked him what it would take to get you reinstated to practice law."

Jarrod's mouth fell open. Reinstated? It was a pipe dream he had given up on the moment he found out in prison that he'd been disbarred. But now – reinstated?

"I won't lead you on," the judge said. "He didn't sound very promising, but he didn't shut the door, either. I'm going to put together a petition, and I'm assuming the sheriff here will give me an affidavit to back it up. Understand, I can't promise anything at all, but keep up helping us, give us more examples to put in front of the Board. It might take a while, but maybe we can get them to see we need you practicing law again."

Jarrod was so stunned he was shaking. Stunned, grateful, astonished - excited. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything until we see if we can do you any good," Judge Farnham. "And as far as helping us again, Fred knows why I went up to Sacramento in the first place and I'd like you to know too."

Jarrod nodded, listening.

"The truth is, I've received information that one of the men I sent to San Quentin – a fella named Bill Dolman – has been quietly trying to arrange to have me killed."

There was something surprising there and something not so surprising. Inmates wanting to kill lawyers or judges or even witnesses and jury members who put them away was not so unusual, but they usually waited until they were released to pursue anything. Trying to arrange a murder from a prison cell was the surprising turn here. "That's rather bold of an inmate," Jarrod said.

"Dolman is a bold guy," Sheriff Madden said. "He tried to escape twice while his trial was going on, up in Lodi."

"Lodi?"

"I took the trial up there when their regular judge fell ill with pneumonia," Judge Farnham said. "I was talking with the Prison Board and the law up in Lodi, trying to figure out how we can get to Dolman and get him to give up more about these plans of his. Dolman won't be getting out of prison. We figure he's trying to pay someone who is getting out to do the job on me."

"Have you decided on any way to get to him?" Sheriff Madden asked.

"The law in San Francisco and the prison authorities there have already tried questioning him straight out, but he isn't budging," Judge Farnham said. "They've even had an investigator from the prison commission in and looking at it. They've tried questioning some of the other inmates, but no one is admitting to knowing anything, and it's quite possible they don't know anything. Dolman is in the special security unit. He doesn't see or talk to too many people, and he's watched heavily when he's out of that unit, just like everybody else in it."

Jarrod was familiar with the unit. It wasn't solitary confinement, but it wasn't among the general population, either. It was a separate cell block with extra security, for men who were a threat to escape or a threat to injure other men or just special cases. The front of the cells were barred but the walls between cells were made of retaining wall material. A man could see some of the men across the aisle, but not the man next to him, although they could talk.

Judge Farnham said, "Jarrod, you do pretty well at getting information out of men when they don't want to give it. I know it's asking a lot for you to go up there and try talking to Dolman. A prison's probably the last place you want to go, but if you approached Dolman and talked him into thinking there might be something you can do on his case, maybe get him out of there on a habeas corpus or something."

Jarrod shook his head. "The men in San Quentin are bound to know I've been to prison and I've been disbarred. I could talk till I was blue in the face, but Dolman would know I couldn't do anything for him legally."

"We could spread the word you've already been reinstated."

"But you're soured on the world because you were locked up in Nevada," the sheriff mused. "You want to help prisoners get out now, not put them in like you did as a prosecutor."

Jarrod shook his head again. "You're talking about men who really are sour on the world and won't believe a word of that."

Judge Farnham said, "Well, it was a thought." He got up to leave. "If anything else comes to either of you, short of beating Dolman up to get his plans out of him, because that's one tough bird and that wouldn't work either."

Suddenly, Jarrod thought of something. A shudder went through him, a wave of bad memories and even fear, but then it all settled down into his soul. He put it together with the possibility of being reinstated, and he actually smiled.

"What?" Judge Farnham asked.

Jarrod said, "You need to put someone in there as an inmate, to try to get Dolman to talk to him and give his plans away."

Judge Farnham said, "We thought of that, too, but we dismissed it. If Dolman even gets the whiff of an idea that the man is a plant, the notion won't work and the man we put in there might find himself in big trouble."

Jarrod said, "But depending on who you put in there, it might work."

"Who would we – " And then he stopped, and he got a terrible look on his face and shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. No."

"Why not?" Jarrod asked.

Sheriff Madden didn't understand what they were getting at, until suddenly he did. He shook his head even harder than Judge Farnham had. "Jarrod, you're out of your mind. There's no way we're going for this, no way."

"Dolman would buy it," Jarrod said. "I've got the history, a legitimate history. You said, I've got a way of getting information out of men. Give me time – "

"No!" Judge Farnham said. "The sheriff's right. You're out of your mind. Maybe an inside man is a good idea, but it's not going to be you."

Jarrod looked up at the judge, then at the sheriff, then back at the judge. "Then who? Who could do a more credible job than I could?"

The judge and the sheriff looked at each other. "It's too dangerous," the judge finally said. "Forget it."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jarrod was in town all day, talking with the judge and the sheriff, debating ideas, alternating between thinking he was crazy for wanting to do what he was talking about doing and being excited about it. But as they debated, he became more convinced that he ought to do it, and that it would work. As he argued, he filed his arguments away in his head, because he knew he'd need them again once he got home and explained to his family what he was planning to do.

He was tired when he got home but more pensive than weary. It almost seemed like old times - the family already gathered before dinner, Jarrod coming in late from town after a long day his face said he couldn't talk about. Everybody actually took some private comfort in that. Jarrod was making continuous progress, settling into both the old routine and the new life he had to make.

But they didn't know he was planning to talk or what he was planning to tell them, yet.

Jarrod came in and made his way to the refreshment table, thinking hard about what he was going to say to his family. After pouring himself a drink, he turned, stayed by the refreshment table and said, "Something has happened I'd like to talk to you all about. It's a little complicated to explain, so bear with me a bit."

Concerns started moving around the room.

Jarrod went on. "You know I've done a few favors for Fred Madden and for Judge Farnham since I got home. Judge Farnham just got back from a trip to Sacramento, and it turns out he has tried to do a favor for me. He talked to the chairman of the Board handling admissions to the bar about possibly reinstating me as an attorney at law."

Everyone straightened excitedly. "Jarrod, do you really think that's possible?" Victoria said.

Jarrod gestured with his hand that they should calm down. "Now, don't go getting your hopes up just yet. Judge Farnham told the board chairman about the things I've done for him and the sheriff, but of course, there is that bribery conviction, and there are also the times I spent in the punishment hole while I was in prison. The chairman didn't give a lot of encouragement, but he didn't shut the door either. I think if I can prove myself even more than I have, there's a chance of reinstatement."

"Over time, I'm sure you can prove whatever you need to," Audra said.

"That's where things get very complicated and difficult," Jarrod said, "and you can't repeat any of what I'm about to tell you to another soul. Judge Farnham's life may depend on it."

"His life?" Victoria said. "What are you talking about?"

"He's been living with a pretty credible death threat from a prisoner in San Quentin, someone he put there a year ago," Jarrod said. "No one's made a move yet, but word from San Quentin is that this prisoner is actually getting something together. I've always had a knack for getting information out of people when they don't want to give it. You know I've done that for Fred a couple times since I got out. I believe that if I can talk some information out of this prisoner, it could save the judge's life and help give the Board what it needs to reinstate me. I could practice law again."

Victoria was getting worried. "Do you think you could do that - go into San Quentin? It's only been six months since you got out of Nevada."

"That's the very complicated part," Jarrod said. "I would go in as a prisoner again, not a lawman."

"No!" Nick blasted right away. "After what you went through in Nevada? Are they out of their minds?"

"It was my idea, Nick, not theirs. I had to bludgeon them into going along with me."

"Then you're out of _your_ mind!"

"Jarrod, the risk to you and your well-being is far too great for that," Victoria said.

"Let's talk it out some more," Jarrod said. "The threat against Judge Farnham is very real. You know I feel an obligation to Fred Madden because of the way I treated him when Beth died. I feel an obligation to Judge Farnham, because he's gone to the Board for me, and besides that he's been good to me all the years I've practiced before him. I don't want to see the man get killed if I can do something about it."

"But risking yourself, Jarrod," Heath said. "Not just your life - you've put men away in San Quentin. They're gonna be after you. But you've fought long and hard to get your soul back together. If you put yourself in prison again, as a prisoner, you're risking your own head again."

"Not so much," Jarrod said.

"Jarrod - " Audra said.

"Hear me out," Jarrod said. "The prisoner who's fingering Judge Farnham is in a special lock-up at San Quentin. It's not solitary, but it's more secure than being in the general population. Nobody gets to the men in there, at least nobody ever has. And this time - this time going into prison is my idea. I know what it's going to be like. I won't be there very long - maybe only a week or two, a month or so tops - and it will be in my control. If it isn't working, or if I just need to get out, I'll be right out. Maybe it might wake up some bad feelings in me, but I don't think so, not as long as the idea and the control are mine."

Jarrod took a deep breath and then said something else, something from so deep inside him it scared him.

"I had no control in Nevada. I was at everybody else's mercy, all the time, and if I've been at loose ends since I got back, it's partly because of that lack of control, day after day. If I put myself back in prison, if I can have control over being in prison, maybe, just maybe, I can do better at getting my control back at home and putting Nevada behind me. I know that sounds crazy and I can't explain why I feel that way, but I do." He looked up, hoping they understood even though he felt like his explanation was inadequate and he couldn't do better.

Victoria eyed her oldest seriously. "You're talking about taking very serious risks, Jarrod."

"I know," Jarrod said, "but there are so many good possibilities that could come out of this. Saving Judge Farnham's life. Getting my head back together, getting my confidence in myself back. Getting reinstated to practice law."

"Being admitted to the bar again is that important to you," Audra said.

"More important than anything," Jarrod said.

"So important you're ready to risk your life?" Nick asked. "So important you'd risk _us_ losing you?"

Jarrod and Nick stared hard at each other. "Believe me, I know how much you all have invested in me. I know I haven't apologized enough to you for what I've done, and I know what I'm asking now is for all of you to risk your hearts and souls with me when you probably shouldn't. I know it's asking more of you than you may be willing to accept, and that's why I'm talking to you now. I told Fred and Judge Farnham I had to talk to you about it. I haven't committed to it. I won't if it's more than you can bear. I won't keep any secrets from you about this except anything confidential that comes up."

They all still looked very unhappy.

Jarrod said, "It's more than just the possibility of practicing law again. That's not even my biggest consideration. Judge Farnham has been a good friend, all these years and especially since I got out of prison. If anything were to happen to him and I could have tried to prevent it and didn't, I'm not sure how I'd live with myself. This man I'm building - I don't want him to be a man who could live with that."

"Did Judge Farnham ask you to do this as a condition of him going to the Board again?" Victoria asked.

"No," Jarrod said. "He said he'd keep trying for me no matter what I do."

"Isn't there anyone else who can do it?"

"No one who's already been in prison," Jarrod said. "No one who would be as believable as I would be. I'm going to have to appear to have committed a crime. With my past, I could make it believable. The other prisoners and the man I have to go after would believe it."

They all still looked at each other. They all looked worried.

Jarrod said, "Why don't I take a little fresh air and let you all talk about this? I know - ." His voice caught. "I know how much I've asked of you over the last three and a half years. I know I keep asking and I hope you know how much it's meant to me to have your love and your help. I know what I'm asking now is hard. I know I'm the one who fouled everything up and made this all happen. You deserve to have the final say on this, so if you are opposed, I won't do it. Judge Farnham and a legal career mean a lot to me, but not nearly as much as you do. You talk. You decide what you think. I'll abide by what you want."

Jarrod put his drink down and walked out the front door. Once out there, once alone, he lost out to the pain of everything he'd done to put his family and himself in this position. He meant it when he said he'd do what the family decided, but he still wanted to help Judge Farnham stay alive, and if doing that could also help him get his faith in himself back, and get him reinstated, he wanted the chance with all his heart. He just hoped he'd explained why well enough to his family, even if they did turn him down.

Inside, his family members just looked back and forth between one another for nearly a full minute. Everything he said had sent them reeling. Judge Farnham's life threatened. The possibility Jarrod could be a practicing attorney again. Jarrod's plan to go back to prison. It all spun around in their minds, horror and hopefulness altogether.

"It's too crazy," Nick said first. "Watching him go through what he went through in Nevada – it nearly killed him. It nearly killed us."

"But it didn't," Heath said. "And he hasn't gone and just done this without telling us. He's even giving us the final call on it."

"I vote no," Nick said.

"Let's talk some more," Victoria said. "Nick, I understand completely why you're worried about this. Believe me, I do. We've all seen Jarrod struggle over the past few months to put the years in prison behind him, and he's done well, very well. None of us wants to risk setting him back again. I know I don't." She looked torn. "I understand why he wants to do this, though, and frankly – if he walked back in that door right this minute and said 'What do you want me to do?'" Victoria hesitated, and even stuttered. "I don't know what I'd say."

They were quiet again for a minute or so, before Heath said, "Jarrod has always been a man who wanted to help others. I know how much he's helped me over the years. He lost himself when Beth died, but those years in prison and since he's come home – he's finding himself again. We all know that before all this happened, if Jarrod had to risk his life to save a friend, he'd have done it and we'd have let him. We'd have done it ourselves."

"What are you trying to say?" Nick asked.

Heath shrugged. "Just thinking out loud, but what I think I'm getting to is that Jarrod has come a long way back to himself. What he wants to do – he'd have done it before he got lost. And we all know how incomplete he's gonna stay if he can't practice law. There will always be that hole in him. If what he wants to do can help him fill that hole – well, it's what he'd be doing anyway, isn't it? And like he said, he has control over everything this time – at least a lot more than he had in Nevada. Maybe doing this would really help him get over Nevada, like he said."

"And help him to forgive himself for everything he did to be put there," Victoria said. "That's the hardest thing he has to do now. I don't know. Maybe doing this would help him."

"Yes," Audra agreed.

Nick actually understood that, but, "I just don't know if I can make a decision that sends my brother back to prison."

They looked at each other again.

"We ought to give the decision back to him," Audra said. "He gave the decision to us but rather than make it, we ought to give it back to him, tell him we'll support whatever he decides to do. It is his life. We should tell him we'll support whatever he decides to do. What better way is there to let him know we love him and trust him?"

"I'm not sure I do trust him on this one," Nick said.

Victoria's thoughts went back several years. "A while back, before everything that's happened, the three of you went to fight a forest fire. You did it without telling Audra or me, and I was about to take off and find you and stop you, but then I realized you were men and entitled to make your own decisions. I was certain I was going to lose all three of you, but I had to let you make your own decisions. Audra's right. We need to give this decision back to Jarrod, let him make it, and let him know he has our support whatever he decides."

Nick opened his mouth to talk.

Victoria quickly said, "I know, Nick. This is different. Jarrod has made some very bad decisions and paid dearly for them, but he's working his way to being a better man. To do that, he's going to have to take risks. Audra is right. We have to let them be his risks."

"There is one more thing, Nick," Heath said. "Jarrod really is the best man for the job, isn't he?"

Nick didn't like any of these arguments and he didn't like what Jarrod wanted to do, but deep inside, he knew they were all right. If he couldn't out and out join in on a decision to approve what Jarrod wanted to do, at least he could agree to let Jarrod make the call for himself, even knowing what that call would be. What the difference was as a practical matter, he wasn't really sure, but it seemed to matter to him inside.

Maybe it was a cop out. Maybe it was just so he could somehow not blame himself if this all went wrong even though he knew he'd still blame himself. Or maybe he was just being stubborn and wanting Jarrod to take the responsibility if it did go wrong. Maybe he still felt wrong about everything in this, but he said, "All right. I can't say 'go ahead and do it, Big Brother.' I just don't think it's a smart thing for him to do, but if it's what he really wants, I can support him making his own call. He said he's got control over this. Well, all right. I'll let him have it all."

Jarrod came back in after a while, finding his family silent, disturbed. He could only imagine what they'd said to each and who took what position. From the looks on their faces, he knew they did not agree on what to do.

It was Victoria who said, "We've talked it all out, and while I wish we could say we all agree you should do it, we don't agree. What we do agree on is that we trust you, and we love you, and that you're entitled to make your own decision on this. We give the decision back to you, and we will all support whatever you decide to do."

Trust. Something Jarrod hadn't felt he had since before everything had gone wrong. Something he hadn't felt they fully had in him and frankly, something he hadn't felt he deserved, until right this minute. For the first time in years, he looked into their eyes and felt the trust, felt it from every one of them – even Nick, who he was certain was the one who couldn't give the yes vote. For the first time in years, he believed he had earned their trust to make this very serious decision for himself.

Audra stepped forward and put her arms around him. Heath gave him a slap on the back, and even Nick gave him a nod. And his mother gave him a smile that lit up his soul. "Is there anything we can do to help with this plan of yours?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod thought for a moment. "Let me talk to Fred, but yes, maybe there is."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Jarrod! Stop this, right now, and come on out! You don't want to get yourself killed!"

Sheriff Madden's voice was loud and insistent, but calm, like he was talking to a madman he had to protect the crowd from, a madman he had to protect from himself. The sweat was rolling off Jarrod's forehead so much that he took his hat off and laid it aside, but he did not come out.

He rested his pistol on the sill of the window that was slightly open and looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was coming in behind him. He hated that he had to run Slim the barber out the barber shop door, but he made sure Slim was the only one in there before he went in. He had locked the back door and knew no one would be coming in there, if all went according to plan. The sheriff had some people in the street who were watching safely tucked away behind him and he was safe behind a wagon.

"Jarrod!" Sheriff Madden yelled again.

"I'm not coming out, Fred!" Jarrod yelled back. "You clear the street and maybe I'll keep talking to you, but I'm not coming out!"

Sheriff Madden had his own pistol out. He was just about to beg Jarrod not to make him use it when the buggy and two horses rode up. Victoria and Audra Barkley in the buggy, Nick and Heath Barkley on horseback.

Victoria flew out of the buggy and was the first one beside the sheriff, and the play began. "Fred, what's happening? What's going on? Where's Jarrod?"

Sheriff Madden nodded toward the barbershop. "We have him cornered in there. He's not hurt, as far as I can tell, but he's armed."

"Is anybody with him?" Heath asked.

The sheriff shook his head. "He ran them out."

"What's going on?" Nick asked. "Why do you have him cornered in there in the first place?"

Sheriff Madden sighed. "He was talking with Judge Farnham this morning and they had a big row. I don't know what it was about – something they were working on together. The next thing anybody knew he had Judge Farnham at gunpoint in his office over on Weber."

"I don't believe this. I don't believe Jarrod would do such a thing. Is the judge all right?" Victoria asked anxiously.

"Yeah, he's fine. Jarrod made a run for it after the judge's law clerk came to me for help. We got Jarrod holed up in the barbershop now. I'm just trying to get him out before he gets himself killed."

"Fred, none of that makes any sense," Nick protested. "Why in the world would he go off half-cocked like that?"

"Nick, I don't ask them why they get violent, I just get them under control," Sheriff Madden said. "Jarrod's trapped in there. He's not going anywhere."

"Are you going to shoot him if he tries?" Victoria asked.

The sheriff sighed. "Victoria, I'm going to do everything I can to get him out there alive and unhurt. I don't know what's wrong with him, but something popped, and I can't deal with it until I get him out."

"How long's he been in there?" Heath asked.

"Nearly an hour now," Sheriff Madden said.

"Then it's time he came out," Victoria said and started for the barbershop.

Nick grabbed her first. "Mother, don't go after him."

"You don't know what he's gonna do," Heath said, holding her by the other arm.

None of the half dozen or so people on the street noticed Audra slowly making her way around the wagon.

Jarrod did. He moaned and yelled, "Audra, get out of there!"

Now everyone saw. Sheriff Madden yelled, "Hold your fire! Everyone, hold your fire!"

"Audra!" Victoria yelled, but her sons held her back.

Audra stopped after only moving three or four feet around the wagon everyone else was staying behind, but she said, quietly, "No."

"Audra!" Nick yelled and started for her.

"He won't hurt me!" Audra yelled at anyone who would hear.

"Audra, get back, you don't know what you're doing!" Jarrod yelled, anguish in his voice.

"Are you going to kill me, Jarrod?" Audra asked, taking one more step forward.

"You don't understand!" Jarrod yelled.

"No, I don't, but I'm not leaving you until I do," Audra said calmly.

Jarrod cocked the pistol. "Audra," he said, more quietly now, "please, just get out of here."

"No," she said.

They were like that for a long time. She took on the demeanor – the smile, the calm, the gentleness – that she took on when one of the orphans she loved was out of control and needed to be reassured and settled down. The knowledge that they both knew what they were doing and this was going to work passed between her and her oldest brother, and Audra smiled.

"Please, Jarrod, put the gun down and come out," Audra said quietly.

Jarrod rested his head against his arm, the gun in his hand still aimed at his sister. But then, he slumped, pulling the gun back inside. He disappeared from the window and appeared at the door, opening it. His gun was uncocked now, held at his side. He came forward slowly.

Audra held his gaze tightly in hers, smiling, trying with all her might not to tremble but it was coming on despite the fact that she knew exactly what she was doing and why. Jarrod came to her, and the closer he got the more she trembled, but he finally stopped right in front of her.

Audra reached for the gun, and Jarrod gave it up to her.

Everyone in the street breathed again, and movement started everywhere. Audra and Jarrod stayed where they were as the sheriff and the family came out from behind the wagon to them. Audra gave Nick Jarrod's gun. All Jarrod did was hold out his hands and let the sheriff put handcuffs on him. He hung his head. He said nothing as the sheriff took him away.

Nick flipped the cylinder of Jarrod's gun open to see how many bullets were left in it. He showed it to Heath and to anyone else who happened to be looking.

There were no bullets in the gun. It was completely empty.

People around them began to look at each other. Someone said, "There's no bullets in that gun!"

Someone else said, "The man was trying to kill himself!"

Voices buzzed all around until some of the wiser heads got everyone corralled and out of there.

Victoria had taken hold of Audra. Now she said flatly, "I want to see Jarrod."

Nick flipped the cylinder of Jarrod's gun back into place. No one had known he was going to be pulling this stunt with an empty pistol, and Nick was almost fuming.

Victoria and Audra kept hold of each other's hands and led the way as they all went to the jail together. When they got there, the sheriff was coming out of the cell block, and they could see Jarrod in a cell back there. The sheriff's deputy was there with him, and as soon as the Barkleys came in, the sheriff said to his deputy, "Henry, get outside. Don't let anybody come in here. Don't you come back in until I tell you to."

The deputy nodded and went out.

Sheriff Madden said, "Come on back."

The Barkleys all went in ahead of him, and there they all stopped, in front of the cell Jarrod occupied. He had been standing at the window but came over to the door as soon as they arrived, and he said, very calmly and sensibly, "Thank you for that little melodrama."

Nick flipped open the gun in his hand again and said, "This is empty. Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

Jarrod shook his head. "No, just believably arrested without getting anybody else hurt."

"Somebody could have shot you, trying to play the hero."

"That's why I holed up in the barbershop where there wasn't any chance of getting a good shot at me," Jarrod said.

"But Audra – "

"I still had the cover of the wagon," Audra said. "I never moved very far."

"It was still crazy," Nick protested.

"But it worked," Jarrod said. "We planned this out carefully. I didn't keep anything from you."

"Except an empty gun."

"That was my idea just this morning," the sheriff said. "I ordered my deputy to take no shots at all. Jarrod's gun being empty was just a precaution, because he was going to be waving it around and I didn't want to risk it going off and somebody getting hit."

Victoria sighed. "It worked, Nick. Maybe I didn't like every piece of this either, but the decisions were Jarrod's and the sheriff's."

"And mine," Audra said. "I'm all grown up now, Nick. I can make my own decisions too."

Nick still grumbled. All right, this had worked so far and no one got hurt, but now what? Jarrod was going to be hauled off to prison again, and maybe there was something in his eyes that was hopeful and confident, but Nick didn't fully share the feeling.

Jarrod could see his younger brother's doubt. Jarrod smiled. "It'll work, Nick. I know it'll work."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Who all knows about this plan of yours to go inside?" Nick asked.

"Just you, the sheriff, the DA and Judge Farnham," Jarrod said.

"The law at Quentin doesn't know?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "We can't be sure somebody in the administration there isn't helping Dolman. Judge Farnham is going to order them that I'm to be in the same holding area as Dolman. They won't be able to put me anywhere else."

"In fact, we think maybe somebody in the administration is friendly to Dolman," Sheriff Madden said. "The superintendent let us in on the rumors about Dolman hiring somebody, so we think he's all right, but we're still not letting him in on the specifics here, just in case somebody around him isn't. For a while now we've had an investigator from the prison commission visiting once a week, and that's who Whaley, the superintendant, thinks is looking into this. He won't know we have an inside man."

"He might figure it out very quickly," Victoria said.

"He might not," Jarrod said. "He's not a corrupt man as far as anyone can tell, but he's not a big thinker, either."

"How are you gonna get yourself out in a hurry if you need to, if the law at Quentin doesn't know anything about this plan?" Heath asked.

"The visiting inspector has a secret word – 'Antietam,'" Jarrod said. "He's supposed to use it if he's in trouble or if he's hit on the answer to all this, which obviously isn't going to happen, but they're keeping him coming in as a decoy, to draw attention away from me. Even he won't know about me. He doesn't even know he's a decoy. Whaley knows the word, and if I need help I'll use it and tell him I know about the investigator and everything else."

"So what happens now?" Nick asked.

"I plead guilty to assault charges tomorrow morning," Jarrod said. "Since I'm pleading out, Judge Farnham can hear the case and sentence me and nobody will be complaining. All the records will be expunged when this works and I'm released."

"When, not if," Victoria said. "You sound very confident."

"I am, Mother," Jarrod assured her. "We've all thought this thing through very carefully."

"How long do you think you'll be locked up?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "There's no telling. However long it takes, but I'm hoping it won't take more than a week or two for me to win Dolman over to telling me something. A month at most."

Jarrod saw all kinds of doubt in their faces, now that he was locked up, now that they were actually going through with this.

"Are you sorry you let me make the decision?" he asked.

"I think it's terribly risky," Audra said, "but no. I understand why you want to do it. It's your decision and I will support you all the way."

Jarrod gave her a smile.

Nick said, "It is your decision. I just hope you'll let us know if you need us while you're in there."

Jarrod looked at Victoria then and gave her a smile. She reached for his hand, but she didn't have any words for this. She didn't like it, but she admired it. She knew what kind of man her son was – the kind of man who would risk his life for a friend, especially one who had been as good to him as Judge Farnham had been. Her mind went back a few years, to the Cunningham case when Jarrod had tried the case against the man who had blinded him in an explosion, to all the support and leeway Judge Farnham had given Jarrod so he could try that case. Now Victoria just nodded. She didn't like what her son was doing, but she understood. She gave his hand a squeeze, and just nodded.

XXXXX

The family was there in court the next morning when Jarrod pled guilty and was sentenced. Before he was taken away, his family members bid him a private good-bye in a courtroom empty except for Sheriff Madden, without any pretense of being stricken or afraid for him. Their tears were genuine. Their fear was real. It got worse when Jarrod said, "Don't plan on visiting me anytime soon. I'm gonna need time to get focused and used to the place and maybe get Dolman to talk fast."

Every one of them looked furious about that. "Jarrod, you're going to need us – " Heath started.

"And I don't want to risk anything slipping out and being overheard," Jarrod said. "With luck, I'll get done what I need to and be home soon. Just trust me. I'll be all right."

"You're out of your mind," Nick mumbled.

Jarrod smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not."

When Jarrod was led away in handcuffs, when Victoria and Audra turned to Nick and Heath crying, they did not have to fake their agony over this whole thing. Jarrod felt terrible for putting his family through this, but he consoled himself that this time, at least, they knew what he was doing, and moreover he knew what he was doing. He spent most of the day in the Stockton jail, until two marshals from Sacramento arrived to escort him to San Quentin. He felt a little heartsick watching Stockton go by as the train took him away, but he put all of his feelings away now. He couldn't carry them with him and pull this off.

It was after dark when they arrived at San Quentin and Jarrod was taken inside, his first time not arriving as a lawyer to see a client. He had never seen the intake procedure here before, the searching of everything about him for contraband, the removal of everything of the real world including his clothes, the shoving him into a too-small prison uniform with the number 72305 on it, the photos taken for identification, the assignment of a cell. It was remarkably similar to the procedure in Nevada, though. It gave him unhappy memories, but it didn't unnerve him.

And the walk down the hall from the intake area, past cell after cell to the special secure area he was assigned to, because that area was where Judge Farnham had him directed. That was where Dolman was, and Jarrod needed to have regular access to him.

The reason they gave out to the prison administration was that Jarrod, as a lawyer, would be a target in the general population and especially needed to be protected from his fellow inmates. He had also assaulted a judge – you didn't commit a crime on a judge and get treated like a regular prisoner. The eyes following Jarrod through the regular cell block and the hoots of men in the regular cells who knew him, the "Well, look who it is! The great Jarrod Barkley!" and the "Welcome to Quentin, Barkley!" and the "Better keep your eyes open!" gave plenty of credence to the first reason.

Jarrod put the taunts out of his mind as he was taken through the regular population and into the special secure area. The secure area was quieter, but only because there were fewer men in there. It wasn't solitary confinement – that was reserved for only a very few hard cases that were too violent to be let out for any reason. Only one of the ten cells in the secure area was unoccupied, and they put Jarrod in there. At least in the secure unit he had his own cell, even if it was only about seven by eight feet big. It was the next to the last cell before they reached the far wall. Jarrod couldn't see the men on either side of him, but he could see the men in three cells across the aisle. Jarrod felt those three sets of eyes on him as they locked the door behind him. He looked back at every set.

Something primal inside him, something he really hadn't expected, something that came from the prison in Nevada, rose up and came out of him in a growl. Jarrod suspected it came out to disguise the shakiness he was feeling now that he was actually in here, because the memories were coming at him and getting to him. He decided to use what he was feeling to his advantage. It might very well prove useful in the long run. "Get a good look," he said. "You'll be remembering me."

One man grunted a laugh. It was the man in the cell across from him. Jarrod recognized Dolman, the man he was after, from a photograph.

"What do you want?" Jarrod said in a low voice.

"Nothin'," Dolman said. "Just lookin'."

"Look somewhere else," Jarrod said.

"Your name's Barkley, isn't it?" Dolman asked.

Jarrod was a bit surprised Dolman knew his name, but he rolled with it. "What of it?"

"You're a lawyer," Dolman said. "Prosecutor once, weren't you? Aren't you on the wrong side of the bars?"

"What, you've never seen a lawyer in jail before?" Jarrod said.

Dolman guffawed. "I think you all ought to be in here. What did you do?"

"None of your business," Jarrod said.

"You did time in Nevada for trying to kill a man, didn't you?"

"That's not your business either," Jarrod said, glaring.

It was a power play between them. Dolman wasn't giving up, but Jarrod wasn't either.

The man in the cell to Dolman's left said, "Come on, confession is good for the soul. Me, I kidnapped a baby out of her mother's arms up in Rancho Calaveras. Might have done worse to it, but I got caught. I was drunker than any skunk ever was, but it didn't get me out of here. Fess up, Barkley. What did a fine, upstanding lawyer like you do to be thrown in here with the likes of us?"

Jarrod wanted them all to know. It was important that Dolman know. Jarrod just didn't want to sound too anxious to have it out, so he said nothing for the moment.

Dolman said, "I killed a banker. I'd do it again."

Jarrod saw the better opening there and decided to let a little bit of information leak out. "I know you. Your name is Dolman. You killed a banker in Lodi a bit over a year ago."

"How did you know that? You were in prison then."

Jarrod gave him an ugly smile. "I know the judge who put you here. Thomas Farnham. Judge from Stockton. I've been before him many times."

"Friend of yours?" Dolman asked.

"Not hardly," Jarrod said.

"Oh," Dolman said. "Dissent in the legal ranks? What did he do to you, find you in contempt?"

"None of your business," Jarrod said and turned away.

Jarrod did not intend to say any more for now. He'd gotten Dolman interested. That was enough for the time being. He went to his bunk and lay down flat on his back. Dolman and the other men left him alone then, but Dolman kept an eye on him longer than anyone else did. Jarrod could see it out of the corner of his own eye. He didn't smile, but it definitely made him happy.

The guard at the main door came in and put out the light there. It was the only one in the block, and it was clear that lights out meant shut up, too. All of the other men settled down and were quiet. Jarrod swore he could hear his stomach grumbling – he hadn't eaten since breakfast in the jail in Stockton. But he fell asleep anyway to the sound of heavy snoring coming from at least three of the other men. His first night as a prisoner in San Quentin had arrived.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Morning came with the guard banging on the door and ordering everyone to wake up and stand inside the door of their cell, back in the center of the tiny room. After a quick urination at the urinal hole in the corner of the cell, everyone did as they were told, Jarrod included. One by one they were instructed to come to the door and put their hands out through one opening in the bars so that they could be cuffed. One by one they obeyed, were cuffed, then the door was opened and their ankles were chained together.

They were taken to the mess hall, herded through the food line and sat down together just inside the door. Most of the men from the rest of the place was already sitting and eating. The food was nothing better than gruel, but Jarrod was hungry enough that it was actually tolerable. He looked around and caught a lot of pairs of eyes looking his way. He recognized four or five of the faces – men he had put away here years ago when he was a prosecutor. Older faces now, more gaunt and drawn, and he didn't always remember the names, but he knew the faces. None of the men from the regular cells were handcuffed or chained. Some of them chuckled to see Jarrod was.

_Maybe seeing me trussed up like this will keep them from wanting to kill me_, Jarrod thought. _They'd rather see me suffer worse than they are. _He caught Dolman across the table, staring at him. "What do you want?" Jarrod growled.

Dolman shook his head. "Nothin'."

One of the guards banged his stick against the table next to Jarrod. "Shut up and eat."

The coffee was cold and not nearly strong enough but at least it was coffee. Jarrod found himself comparing everything he was experiencing to the prison in Carson City. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help it, until he realized just the comparison was making him tense up. Bit by bit, he was beginning to feel like this wasn't a ruse, this was as real as Nevada had been. He shook it off, because he knew if he didn't consciously do that, Nick would be right. He'd lose himself again if he wasn't very, very careful.

After leaving the mess hall, the men were herded to the lavatory where they were watched carefully while they used the facilities and cleaned up. Shaving was done with the dullest blades on the face of the earth, even duller than those in Nevada as far as Jarrod could see. After leaving there, they were taken to the yard, where there was a vegetable garden to be tended. The men from everywhere but solitary confinement worked it for almost two hours under the watchful eyes and weapons of many guards, and never were permitted to talk. To do that, they had to be furtive about it, muttering in low tones while passing one another or working close together. Jarrod saw plenty of men doing it.

While Jarrod was pulling some weeds, somebody passing bumped into him, someone who wasn't chained or cuffed. Jarrod stopped, stood up, and glared at the man. Then he recognized him. The man laughed at him and said quietly, "Welcome to the end of your life, Barkley," before moving on.

It was Victor Hawk, the very first man Jarrod had put in here when he was a young prosecutor. A murder case Jarrod had to take over when the older and more experienced prosecutor suddenly fell ill. Hawk was older and scrawnier but just as ornery. In his mind's eye, Jarrod saw the man the sheriff had hauled away years ago, but now Jarrod remembered to be careful, because he was chained now and Hawk was not. He looked at the man's hands and saw they were empty except for a trowel – this time. He said nothing to the man. He knew he had to get himself back to the present because he had a job to do, and he had to remember he was under threat here from more than this man.

Jarrod then took stock of himself. His cuffs would make a weapon he could wrap around a man's neck. The leg irons could trip a man if need be. He regretted he hadn't planned on being in the yard with regular prisoners, but what was done, was done. He knew going in he couldn't plan for every single eventuality. He knew he'd spend his first few days here figuring out what those eventualities might be.

And he knew he was going to have to find a way to get more to work with while he was out here. He looked around at the other men from his cell block. Maybe he could find a way to gain some allies. They were locked up in extra security for a reason – maybe there was some fear of them in the regular prisoners. Jarrod spotted Dolman alone by the fence, putting a rake back. He knew he wanted to make Dolman one of those allies, and not just for protection. To get the information he wanted. He started plotting and timing out a way to do that.

XXXXXXX

As Jarrod worked to figure out how his stay in San Quentin was going to go and how he was going to get what he needed from Dolman, Nick and Heath dug post holes with two other men and rebuilt a line of fence taken down by some wild critter, probably a bear. Nick had been a bear himself all morning, and Heath knew it was because he was worried about their older brother. More than worried. Still mad. Still very unhappy about this whole escapade Jarrod had gotten himself into.

Heath was worried too, but less so. He was protective of those he loved, but not as much as Nick was. Nick was a lot more reluctant to let go of that protective mood than Heath was. Heath understood why Jarrod was doing what he did, and he was not as worried Jarrod would lose himself in prison. He was not as worried the memories of Nevada would overwhelm him.

Nick sensed that and finally asked, as they stopped for a drink of water by the wagon, "Why aren't you bothered more about what Jarrod's up to?"

The question came out of the blue, but it still didn't really surprise Heath. "I'm worried, but I'm not gonna twist myself in knots over it. You know Jarrod. And you know what he was like when he got out of prison. He was shaky, he wasn't sure of who he was at all. He wasn't even sure he'd been right about who he ever was. But this – pulling himself together to help Judge Farnham, putting himself back in prison but this time calling the shots himself – can't you see how much it was helping him get himself back? He was getting stronger. He was getting more settled and certain about who he is. If he can keep Judge Farnham from getting killed, it's gonna help him more than all the talking you or I could do."

"And what if he doesn't keep Judge Farnham from getting killed?" Nick asked. "Have you thought about what it's gonna do to him if this doesn't work?"

"Yeah, I thought about it," Heath said, "but what would it do to him if Judge Farnham got killed and he didn't even try to keep it from happening? Have you thought about that?"

Nick grumbled. He hadn't really thought hard about that, but now he did, and Heath had a point. If Judge Farnham got killed and Jarrod hadn't even tried to prevent it – that would have eaten Jarrod up. It would have set him back a lot. But what if Jarrod got killed in San Quentin? Nick tried to think it through before blurting it out.

Heath could see the wheels turning anyway. "The day Jarrod dies, whenever that day comes," Heath said, "I know he'd rather die helping somebody, saving somebody, than having it on his conscience that he could have helped somebody and didn't. He'd give up his life for a friend without batting an eyelash. You know that, too, Nick, and you and I are the same way, aren't we?"

Nick had to admit to himself that Heath had a point again. "I guess it is a Barkley trait," he finally admitted. "It's just – well, I don't know what it is."

"It's you wanting to protect Big Brother, just as he wants to protect Judge Farnham," Heath said. "Let him do it, Nick. Let him be. Quit worrying until there's really something to worry about. At least he didn't do it behind our backs this time."

"I've actually been wishing he had," Nick grumbled.

Heath laughed. "Man, you just can't stand not having things your way, can you?"

Nick gave a sheepish grin and raised an eyebrow. "Another Barkley trait, I guess."

Heath raised his hands. "I think you got that one from Mother, Nick. I am far more willing to let another man call his own shots than you are, even Jarrod."

Now Nick frowned. "Will you just quit being so rational and get back to work? I got enough trouble with one brother driving me crazy making more sense than I do."

Heath gave him a slap on the back and went back to digging postholes.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Being in prison in the secure lock-up was a lot like being in the army – full of boredom. The regular prisoners worked most of the rest of the day doing one thing or another – laundry, kitchen, and things that would take them outside the gates like breaking rocks on the old rock pile or working on the roads or even the walls. But the prisoners in the secure lockup never went outside the gates or worked with the other inmates other than in the garden. They were just left to rot there after working in the yard. Jarrod knew from his experience with the place over the years that secure lock-up was for those who were considered too likely to escape and too dangerous to the public if they did. Or, like Jarrod, they were men who were likely to get into trouble with the regular population or had committed a crime on an influential person who could get them locked up there. Jarrod consoled himself with the fact that at least, unlike the army, there was no marching, but until his sixth day at San Quentin, Jarrod thought he was going to go stark staring bonkers.

Now and then in the yard, someone would bump him, not hard at first but he noticed as time went by it was getting more direct. They were feeling him out, Jarrod figured. There was more than one man who knocked into him, faces he recognized from the past, but men from Jarrod's cellblock were beginning to glare whenever someone did. On the sixth day, someone came at him hard. Jarrod shoved him away hard, and they stared each other down. Jarrod's buddy from the cell next to his – a man named Norwood – came up beside him, and stood staring with him. Jarrod did not know the man who had knocked into him, but he went on his way when Jarrod got reinforcement.

And that was the extent of the excitement in his normal day, until the package came. A guard brought two books in, with a note inside the cover of one, from Audra. He read the note. She said they all missed him and that Abel sent his best, too. He knew that Abel did not know what was really going on, and it made Jarrod smile to think he'd send his best anyway. The books were both by Mark Twain – Roughing It, and The Innocents Abroad. He had read them both before, but not lately, and they were a comforting piece of home that made him happy.

Dolman noticed. Jarrod noticed that Dolman noticed.

They hadn't spoken much since Jarrod's arrival. Jarrod had only sensed three or four openings and offered only one or two of his own. A little bit of familiarity, a little bit of communication was all that was happening so far. Jarrod was preferring to keep his San Quentin persona somewhat sullen, somewhat angry and aloof, but it was becoming time to be a little more open. The books offered a chance. "Do you read?" he asked Dolman when he saw him looking.

"I can read," Dolman said.

"Want one?" Jarrod asked.

"What have you got?" Dolman asked.

"Twain – 'The Innocents Abroad' and 'Roughing It.' I'll take 'Roughing It.' You want the other?"

"Sure,'" Dolman said.

Jarrod took Audra's note out and pitched the book through the bars. It skidded up to Dolman's cell. He bent to pick it up, but a guard got to it first.

"It's just a book I got in the mail," Jarrod said. "It's already been checked."

The guard riffled the pages anyway, then handed the book to Dolman.

Then unexpectedly, as he thumbed through the pages, Dolman said, "What did you do to get put in here, Barkley? And don't give me that 'it's none of your business' stuff. We don't have much private business around here."

Jarrod eyed him.

"We're covering your butt, you know," Dolman said.

"I've noticed," Jarrod said. Then he took the opening, and smiled wryly. "I assaulted your old friend Judge Farnham."

Dolman's eyebrows went up.

Jarrod chuckled a little. "We had one too many run-ins and I took a gun to him."

"You were gonna kill him?"

"Ah, I don't know, probably not," Jarrod said. "I just let my temper get the better of me. I didn't get a chance to make up my mind before I had to high-tail it out of there. They caught up to me anyway."

"That doesn't sound like the level-headed Barkley lawyer I've heard about," Dolman said.

"I have a temper," Jarrod said. "It got me thrown into prison in Nevada for three years. If you were from Stockton, you'd know all about it."

"I heard about it," Dolmans said. "Not all the details, though."

The man in the cell next to Dolman said, "That fella Hyatt, died in here a while back. I don't think you ever saw him, Dolman. Barkley here nearly killed him in Nevada."

"I heard that much," Dolman said.

Jarrod shrugged. "Not much more to tell. Believe it or don't. I'm in here. I didn't get locked up for spitting on the sidewalk."

"How much time did you get?"

"Now? Here? Seven years. I made Judge Farnham pretty mad. You? You're in for life, aren't you?"

"Yeah, life." Dolman turned away then, sat on his bunk and began to read.

Jarrod stood watching for a moment. A little bit of bonding had just happened. Jarrod knew he couldn't ask for much at a time. This wasn't going to be as quick a process as Jarrod had planned on before he got in here, but he was ready to be patient. Dolman was being careful and deliberate with his plan to get Farnham. If Jarrod were to rush things, Dolman would simply shut him out.

Norwood in the next cell rolled out his bunk, stretched and came to the bars at the wall he shared with Jarrod. Jarrod couldn't see him but could smell him there. Seeing Dolman occupied, Norwood spoke very softly to Jarrod. "Watch out for him. He's got it in for your judge friend, too. Farnham is the one who put him here."

"Why should that bother me?" Jarrod asked, also very softly.

"He might drag you into something," Norwood said. "Just watch out."

Norwood wandered back to his bunk. If Dolman had heard either of them, he didn't indicate it. It was clear to Jarrod that Norwood at least knew about Dolman's plans to get to Judge Farnham, or at least knew there were plans. Jarrod watched Dolman for a moment, then went back to his bunk to read.

XXXXX

It was on the tenth day when his relative comfort in the yard disappeared. He had been raking when someone bumped into him, hard. Jarrod turned to yell and saw the small, thin pointed thing in the man's hand, just in time to knock it away with the rake before the man stuck it into him. The man moved off into the crowd even before Jarrod could see who it actually was. Jarrod quickly picked the thing up off the ground, and looked around again. None of the guards had seen it happen, but some of the other men around him did, and now that he was armed, they were moving away. He saw only one face in that crowd from his past. He wondered if that was the man who had tried to stick him.

Jarrod hid the pointed thing inside his shirt and was able to get it into his cell with him. When the guard left, he took it out, his back to his fellows in the cell block, and looked it over. It wasn't metallic. It was a piece of wood. It wasn't whittled, but looked like it had been filed into a point, maybe on the rough floor or outer wall of a cell. Jarrod looked for somewhere to put it.

"Slip it into the urinal hole," Dolman said. "It'll be filthy as hell, but that's probably where the guy you got it off of hid it. The pipe in the urinal hole turns about six inches down. I'll bet you find your excuse for a knife there fits perfectly."

Life in prison was not very sanitary, but Jarrod had other reasons not to take the advice. "It's wood. Looks like a stick from a tree, though where the guy who tried to stick me got it, I don't know. It'll fall apart if I put it in the urinal hole. But, what the hell, it's not gonna last anyway." He slipped it into the urinal hole and it did fit perfectly. Jarrod could reach a finger in there and get it out if he needed it, but like he said, it wasn't going to last long in the wet environment of a urinal hole.

"Sorry I didn't see your friend in the yard coming. Did the guy stick you with it?" Dolman asked.

"No," Jarrod said. "I saw it in time."

"Did you know the guy?"

"I didn't see who it was."

"You gotta know there's more than one man in the regular population who wants you dead."

"Of course," Jarrod said. "It's not gonna happen, though."

Dolman chuckled. "You are an ornerier cuss than I expected. I always heard you were a slick lawyer type, but you are one mean fella when you want to be."

Jarrod grunted. "I want to stay alive for all of my seven years."

"You think your family's gonna remember you and send you books for that long?"

Now it was Jarrod's turn to chuckle. "Not likely, but I got no trouble reading the same thing twice. What about you, Dolman? What keeps you going? You got family?"

"No," Dolman said. "I just keep going because there's nothing else to do."

"You gotta have something driving you on," Jarrod said. "What is it?"

For a moment Dolman almost looked like he was going to confess something, like maybe it was his hatred keeping him alive, but he clammed up again. "I got my reasons for living, just like any other man," he said and turned away.

XXXXXXX

The next time somebody seriously went for Jarrod in the yard was two days later. Jarrod sensed him coming but couldn't get to him before somebody bumped him hard – but then whoever bumped him was pulled away. Jarrod turned and found the man lying on the ground, trying to scramble up, and standing over him was Dolman. "Sorry," Dolman was saying to him. "I didn't mean to trip you."

But of course, he did mean to do it. Jarrod recognized the man as another one he had prosecuted some years ago. The man scrambled off before the guards saw what was going on. Jarrod saw him tucking some kind of weapon under his shirt as he did.

"Thanks," Jarrod said to Dolman.

"It's nothin'," Dolman said and wandered away.

Jarrod looked around. A couple others of his cell block mates were watching out for things, too. Loyalty among this small community within this larger community of killers, thieves, rapists – it was almost too much to believe, but it was there.

Jarrod warned himself to be careful. These were not his good buddies in any normal sense. They would turn on him in a heartbeat if it suited their interest, or if they found out why he was really here. This place was not a safe society, and he was not here to make friends. He was here to keep the man who had just saved his life from hiring someone to take Judge Farnham's. _Remember_, Jarrod warned himself. _Remember why you're here._


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jarrod had been locked up for three weeks and was still trying to feel his way through to Dolman's real plans. Once or twice in the yard he tried poking Norwood quietly into letting go of more of what he knew, but he was resistant. Jarrod took up watching what Dolman was doing in the yard, to see if he was trying to talk furtively to anyone, but Jarrod never caught him doing it.

Jarrod was watching and digging out root vegetables when another heavy bump came along. Jarrod shoved the man away, jumped up and saw Hawk again on the ground, quickly hiding another homemade knife. Jarrod was not feeling particularly forgiving today. He gave into his rage against the man and kicked him while he was down. Kicked him hard, in the side, several times.

Men who saw it started yelling. Jarrod's cell block mates came running, but so did a few guards, and the next thing Jarrod knew, he was being thrown into the punishment hole. And the memories of Nevada came roaring back, washing over him and shoving him onto the floor so hard he didn't think he was going to be able even to sit up. This was just like it was in Nevada, the mental torture screaming in on him just as bad as the physical. For horrible moments, he thought he really was back in Nevada. For horrible moments, he really had lost control of his situation.

But he got himself together. He realized what was really going on was temporary, would pass. It wasn't Nevada. He had made a mistake, but he would not make it again. If he had to, he could even get out of this place with the emergency word "Antietam." He steadied himself and forced reality, not fear, to come to him.

What was really bothersome was that he was cut off from his real reason for being here. He was cut off from Dolman. He'd learn nothing at all while he was sitting in this filthy, dark half-room, and he had no idea how long he'd be here. He'd have kicked himself if he could have moved. He knew he could not have at another prisoner again, not a one. He needed to hold back, defend himself yes, but not kick a man who was down. That was what the guards had noticed. That's why he was in here. He'd have to hold back from that kind of reaction. He would hold back.

It started to get close and hot in this place. With no urinal or other facility to use, Jarrod was stuck with holding on until he couldn't anymore, and then he just had to endure his own body as best he could, just like it had been in Nevada. He sweated, he stank, he itched. He felt sick and fought to keep from throwing up, but lost it once. Not much – there was not much in his stomach to lose – but enough. He fought hard to keep his senses, or to sleep if he were starting to let the fear seep into him. He thought about how he possibly could have endured this as long as he did in Nevada but he remembered that he did endure it. It was endurable.

He shook fear out of his mind, and whenever he started to fret or regret, he shook it away as best he could, even though it was tough when he had nothing to do but think. He knew he wasn't going to make it through this if he kept ruminating like that. He wasn't going to be able to do the job he had himself put in here to do if he let things get to him.

At least he wasn't going to be in this hole forever, that was for sure. He'd be back in his cell, back across the aisle from Dolman, and he had to be prepared to get into things more deeply with him. He had to get some idea of who Dolman was working with – the prisoner he was hiring to kill Judge Farnham, any guard or administrator who was in on it too. He had to find out soon, and he had to stay sane through this darkness, this stench, this misery he was in now if he was going to do it.

He could hardly stand up when they finally took him out. He had no idea how long he'd been in there, but judging from his experience in Nevada and the level of his own filth he was living in, he guessed two days. The first place they took him was to use facilities, clean up and get into a clean uniform, just as in Nevada. Then he was back in his cell, and thankfully, he had his wits about him. The more he breathed, the more he began to be more still, more calm, more centered.

Dolman looked up from his bunk. Norwood came over to the bars where they met his and Jarrod's wall. Neither one of them spoke. Jarrod asked, "What day is this?"

"You were more than two days in there," Norwood said. "Lovely, ain't it?"

Jarrod glared at him. "I've done it before."

Dolman sat up in his bunk. "Betcha got a few choice words for a few people now, don't you?"

Jarrod saw the opening, wide and perfect, and he had the sense to take it. "I'll bet we have one of those people in common."

Dolman smiled. He shifted his eyes to Norwood, telling him to move away, and Norwood did, but kept listening as best he could. Dolman said quietly, "You come from money."

Jarrod said, "So?"

"I could use some," Dolman said.

Jarrod choked a laugh. "Like I have any in here."

"A letter home and you can have some transferred from one place to another," Dolman said.

"And why would I do that?"

"To pay somebody to do a job."

"Who? What job?"

Dolman's voice grew even quieter. "I can't give you a who, but the job is to visit Judge Farnham."

Jarrod shook his head. "Forget it."

"It's a perfect set-up," Dolman said. "I just need the money."

"I'd kill Farnham myself if I had the chance, but I'm not gonna pay somebody to do it."

"And how are you gonna kill him when you're in here for seven more years? Come on, Barkley. You have money. Use it."

Jarrod was silent for a moment, playing the moment out. "You tell me who I'm hiring," Jarrod said, very quietly.

"I can't do that," Dolman said.

"Then I'm not paying," Jarrod said.

Dolman turned away, and it ended there for now. Jarrod was right on the edge of going mad with frustration. Two days in the hole had made him ready to pounce on anybody, and now to be so close to what he needed to know but not have it was twisting a knife into his guts. But he couldn't press Dolman. Dolman would clam up for good if he sensed Jarrod was too anxious for the information. Jarrod had to let it go, had to get himself centered again. There was no way to do what he had to do if he couldn't control the information flow with Dolman, and he couldn't control the information flow if he couldn't control himself.

XXXXXXX

The Barkley ranch was getting quieter every day that Jarrod was gone. Nick found his irritation growing every day, and even Heath started to worry because this was not going as quickly as Jarrod had hoped. They couldn't find the will to talk to each other about it – they'd never talk to their mother or sister about it – but when a letter from Jarrod arrived nearly 40 days since he'd gone away, it created too much pain to ignore.

Victoria read the letter out loud as they gathered for drinks before dinner. "'Dear Family, Put worry out of your mind. I am all right and doing well. I haven't talked much to my cell block mates but except for some minor trouble, I've been able to stay on the straight and narrow. Audra, I thank you for the books. They have kept me from being too bored. Love, Jarrod.'"

"That wasn't much," Audra said. "Why didn't he say more?"

"Not free to," Heath said. "He said enough though."

Nick nodded. "He hasn't gotten what he needs out of Dolman, and I'll bet that minor trouble wasn't so minor."

Heath said, "At least he didn't use the word 'Antietam.'"

Victoria shook her head. "You know your brother. When he's set on something, he's set on it until it's done. We should write back."

"I'll send him a couple more books, too," Audra said.

Nick and Heath were silent then, until later, after the women had retired and they were alone with cigars and brandy in the library. At first, they were still silent, but then Heath spoke up. "They put him in the punishment hole, don't you think?"

Nick nodded. "He's been through enough of that."

Once again, as he had when Jarrod was in Carson City, Heath remembered his own experience with the iron box. He didn't know what to say about it.

But Nick knew what Heath was remembering. He was remembering it too, and what Jarrod had gone through in Nevada. "I don't know what we can do to help him," Nick said. "If there was some way we could get this Dolman to talk – "

"I don't see how we can do that, short of getting in there with Jarrod," Heath said.

"Or going in there and beating it out of him."

Heath knew Nick wasn't remotely serious, just letting off steam. What he was wanting to do was impossible. "I'm just grateful nobody's made a move on Judge Farnham. Seems like the guy Dolman wants to do the job isn't out yet."

"Maybe we ought to try and go see our brother," Nick said. "It's been more than a month."

"Jarrod said not to. Plus Mother and Audra would want to go."

"Then we talk them out of it and tell them it's just you and me going," Nick said.

"Do you really think those two women are gonna go for that?"

"They're gonna have to," Nick resolved.

"I don't think any of us should go, Nick. Jarrod said not to."

"Jarrod didn't think he'd be in there this long."

"It might not be much longer," Heath said, "and if we go, we might upset what he's trying to do."

Nick huffed in frustration. "When he gets home, I might just knock him into the next county."

"I might just help you," Heath said, "but let's get him home first."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jarrod was flat out attacked in the yard on day 50 – by Hawk. Apparently he couldn't take it anymore, seeing Jarrod right there in front of him, wanting his revenge, and he went for him with a piece of metal he found working on a road crew just outside the prison gates. He went to slash at Jarrod's neck, but he was a shorter man and had to reach too high. Jarrod blocked him but refrained from knocking him down or slugging him. Hawk tried again with a slashing motion, but again Jarrod blocked him, and by now a couple guards had seen the ruckus and were there. They pulled Hawk away and disarmed him. As they pulled him away, the head guard came up to Jarrod and glared at him. "Inside," was all he said.

Jarrod headed back into the building, wondering if he was headed for another night in the punishment hole, but instead he was taken to the warden's office. Jarrod knew the man but hadn't seen him since he got here. His interactions with Whaley had always been with him on the other side of the law, but now he was a prisoner. Now he was under this man's thumb.

Whaley wasn't a crooked man, or at least that wasn't his reputation. He was just somewhat ineffective, even lazy, but now, he grinned as Jarrod was left alone with him. He liked having Jarrod Barkley in front of him as an inmate, not an equal and especially not as a superior. "Well," he said as the guard who brought Jarrod in left, closing the door. "Quite a bit different on the inside like this, isn't it, Counselor?"

Jarrod didn't say anything. He was waiting to hear what being called up here was about.

"I hear you've been trouble since you came in the door, but then I'm not surprised. I _was_ surprised when I found out you were part of my little flock," Whaley said.

"I'm not the trouble," Jarrod said.

"How many dust-ups in the yard since you've been here? One every few days, from what I'm told, even if most of them aren't much. But a couple of them have been much, and I'm not tolerating them." Whaley sat up straighter, staring Jarrod in the eye. "I'm told you're here because you assaulted Judge Farnham, even thought about killing him. Now, if I didn't know about your little escapade in Rimfire, Nevada a few years ago, I'd never have believed it was true, but you did make yourself a nasty reputation and everybody in here knows you did time and got disbarred."

"Get to the point," Jarrod said, losing in to the temptation to talk to Whaley as an equal, the way he always did.

"Just this," Whaley said, leaning forward in his chair. "You will only speak to me when I give you permission to. You will refer to me as 'Warden Whaley, Sir.' And to keep my yard quiet, you will not be permitted there for the next six months."

"That's inhuman," Jarrod said, even though not working in the yard was not completely heart-breaking. It would be safer.

"Speak to me when I give you permission to, Barkley," Whaley said. "You're not the high and mighty Jarrod Barkley, Esquire in here. You're number 72305, the number on the back of your shirt and on the front of it, that's all."

Jarrod could tell two things – Whaley still knew nothing about why Jarrod was really here, and Whaley was tickled pink to be able to express his disgust with him and come down on him. Jarrod resolved not to give him more chances.

"I will cut you some slack though," Whaley said unexpectedly. "You can continue to eat with the others in the mess hall, when they eat, and you can have ten minutes to yourself in the yard to move around and dig up a carrot or two for yourself after all the other men clear out, get a little fresh air and walking around time. That's enough time, don't you think?"

"Is that permission to speak, Warden Whaley, Sir?" Jarrod asked.

Whaley smiled. "Now you're getting it. Guard!"

The guard came back in.

"Take 72305 back to his cell," Whaley said. "He understands how things are now."

Jarrod was returned to his cell, under the curious eyes of his cell block mates. They all knew where he had been, and moreover they all knew that he had known the warden when he was on the other side of the bars. After the guard locked him into his cell and left the block, Norwood began to laugh. "I'll bet that was a lot of fun, wasn't it?"

Dolman said, "None of us ever got a private talk with Whaley."

"He knows me from my coming here a few times as a lawyer," Jarrod said. "He wanted to lord some things over me now. I'm surprised he didn't haul me in there earlier."

Dolman shook his head. "Don't be surprised. He probably didn't even know you were here until now."

"Even after my time in the hole?" Jarrod asked.

"From what I hear, he doesn't even bother to look at the names of who's coming and going around here. Too much work. He probably just figured out you were here. And to think, you used to be such a believer in the righteousness of the law. Welcome to the reality of it, Counselor."

Jarrod nodded a little, then said quietly, "Back off, Norwood."

Norwood went back to his bunk, knowing Jarrod wanted to talk to Dolman without him. He strained to listen anyway, but had no luck.

Jarrod spoke to Dolman in a very low tone. "Tell me something. That visit to Farnham – you planning to pay somebody to 'do a job' and wanting money from me for it – are you ready to tell me who you're hiring?"

Jarrod knew it was a risk being so direct but he was hoping the things Dolman had just said were an opening. He was hoping Dolman saw hatred for authority growing even more in Jarrod's eyes.

But Dolman still hesitated. "Are you ready to give me money yet?"

"One for the other," Jarrod said. "No money until you give me a name, just in case it's a name I don't want to pay."

Dolman still hesitated, but finally he said, "Fella I knew on the outside, name of Hempstead."

Jarrod didn't know the name. "Why should I bankroll somebody I know nothing about?"

"That's the perfect man to bankroll," Dolman said. "They'll never connect you to him."

"They will when they follow the money," Jarrod said. He considered just saying no, now that he had the name, but he knew he'd really need more than his say-so to nail Dolman and Hempstead good and solid. He'd need the law to follow the money, from the bank to whoever picked it up and then with that man off to Stockton to kill Judge Farnham. He wanted to hear what else Dolman had to say about the money.

Dolman said, "Did you know I was a banker once?"

Jarrod didn't know that. "And you killed a banker?"

"What do they call that – irony? When I was a banker, a long time ago, I set up an account in a phony name. You'll put the money there, Hempstead will draw it out."

"Then they'll follow my money to your phony name. It won't take long to figure out who set up the phony account."

Dolman chuckled. "Yes, it will. I knew what I was doing. I didn't really have a plan for why I'd need a phony account, but I figured I might need it someday, and now I do. Besides, they won't even know it's Hempstead who's taking money out. They won't even know there was any money to take out. They won't know anything about this because Hempstead is gonna do the job and disappear. I got this covered. How about it?"

"When does Hempstead get out?" Jarrod asked.

"One week," Dolman said.

Jarrod played around with it in his head. At least now he had the name and a timeline, and he knew there was a bank account, and now he could find out more. "What bank?"

"No, no," Dolman said. "Only if you're ready to tell your family to move the money."

"How much?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"You don't think five thousand dollars isn't gonna draw any attention? You're an idiot, Dolman."

"It's my risk."

"It's mine, too, when they catch Hempstead and trace that money back to me."

"They're not gonna catch Hempstead. He'll be in the clear. He's got no connection to Farnham, none at all. He does it quiet and nobody will be the wiser he's even the one who did it."

"What makes you think Hempstead won't just take the money and run?"

Dolman shrugged. "A risk. But I know people he knows. He won't just disappear. I told you. I got this covered."

Jarrod's mind was whirling. He finally said, "No, too risky."

Dolman sighed. Jarrod could tell Dolman thought he had him, but Jarrod also knew he couldn't look too eager. He had to look cautious. "All right," Dolman said. "But you think on it. It was Farnham put you in here, wasn't it? And you know you're gonna die here. Any time now, one of them out there is gonna get to you, if not in the yard then in the mess hall. You might not even live until tomorrow."

Jarrod gave a little smile. "Well, then, it won't matter much to me if I get in on Farnham's killing or not, will it?"

Dolman shrugged. "You might have some more time to feel satisfied before they get you. You think on it." And he went back to his bunk.

Jarrod did think on it, and he knew he was going to do it, just not today. Tomorrow maybe. And he knew darned good and well somebody could get to him and kill him in the mess hall before he even got to tomorrow. He knew coming in here he was a target, but so far, so good. Now if someone was going to get him, it was going to have to be in the mess hall – a lot harder place for someone to get at him than the yard. Yes, tomorrow he would tell Dolman he'd thought it over and he'd have the money moved. Then it would just be a matter of waiting for Hempstead to be released and go for the money. Then this would be done, he'd have the evidence he needed, and he could get out of here.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The guard was banging on the door even before the sun came up. The men in the secure cell block were up and had their arms ready to hold through the bars as soon as the urinals were used, and then there was handcuffing and ankle chaining, off to breakfast and clean-up and other facilities using. Then the rest of the men were taken to the yard while Jarrod was brought back to his cell, left cuffed and ankle chained just to lie down on his bunk in utter boredom. In a couple hours, the other men returned, and Jarrod was taken out for his ten-minute break. He only had time pull up a carrot, wipe it off good and chew it down before he was brought back in to use the facilities. As soon as the guard locked him into his cell and then locked the cell block door behind him when he left again, Jarrod leveled a gaze at Dolman across the aisle and just said, quietly, "I'm in."

Dolman smiled. "When they take us to write to whoever we want to later this afternoon, I'll give you the specifics."

Jarrod nodded, but said, "You better be straight on this, because I guarantee you, if you're not, I'm gonna kill you."

Dolman looked a bit surprised, but not really frightened. "It's straight. You wait and see."

Time in the visitors' area later on was the chance for the men from the secure unit to receive paper and a wax crayon to write home, or to whomever they wanted. Jarrod knew a guard would be reading his letter before it was sent off, so he would have to word it very carefully while still making himself understood to his family. Jarrod and Dolman sat at the same table, and Dolman quietly read off numbers and the name of the bank where the phony account he had made was. Jarrod wrote them down, and then he wrote the letter to his family on the same sheet of paper.

Getting the letter off lifted Jarrod's spirits a bit, but they were smashed again at dinner in the mess hall. While he was taking his plate from the food line to his table, someone plowed into him hard, sending his food flying right onto one of the guards. Jarrod never saw who banged into him, and the guard at least pretended not to see as well. Two guards grabbed Jarrod and hauled him out of there.

And then he was back in the punishment hole again, without having eaten, crammed into that half room so he couldn't stand up, living with his own filth again. Somehow, having this happen a second time was both easier and harder than the first. Now the experience didn't wake up memories of Nevada, and that made it easier. But now he knew what this punishment hole was going to be like, and that made it harder.

Alone in the silence and the dark, he finally allowed himself a few minutes to lose it, to wish he'd never done this, to wish he were home in a hot bath and then his own bed, but the minutes of weakness passed. He sucked his courage back in, breathed as deeply as he could in the stench from himself and left over from whoever had been in here last. At some point he fell asleep, and even if he had no idea what time it was, whether it was day or night or how long he had been in here when he woke up, he knew where he was, and he knew it wouldn't last forever.

He remembered what this was for – for a judge who had put up with him and even supported him when he was fumbling in the darkness that wouldn't end, when he was struggling to find a way to prosecute a case against Joshua Cunningham, who was a thief and a murderer who had killed one of his best friends and blinded him in an explosion. This was for a man who gave him the room to guide himself back to confidence even in the darkness Jarrod was afraid was permanent. Jarrod knew this darkness now would end, and he knew he could and would endure it and the stench and the indignity to be sure that Thomas Farnham would be safe.

Remembering that, remembering why he was here in this prison enabled Jarrod to endure this dreadful punishment hole where he couldn't see and couldn't move and could barely breathe. This time he was only here for twenty-four hours before they let him out, cleaned him up, and took him back to his cell. _One more time_, he told himself. _I've taken it one more time. I can take it more if I have to._

And in the meantime his letter was heading to the Barkley ranch, and his family would help him get this all right, and ultimately bring him home.

XXXXXXX

"'Dear family,'" Victoria read out loud during drinks before dinner, a curious look on her face. "'I'd like you to get some money from my account into the above account at the above-named bank. I owe a debt incurred before I was arrested and need to square it away. I need the money in the bank by the middle of next week. Please also verify the money is withdrawn and gets where it's supposed to get.'" Victoria frowned at it, looking at the date of the letter. "That's the day after tomorrow."

Nick said, "It must be part of what Jarrod's in there trying to do."

"I'll bet this is payoff money for someone to do the job on Judge Farnham," Heath said. "Jarrod's found out what he needed to find out."

"The quicker we do this, the sooner we'll get Jarrod out of there and back home, and the sooner Judge Farnham will be safe," Nick said.

"Then do it as soon as you can!" Audra said.

"The bank is in Lodi," Victoria said.

Heath looked at Nick. "If we're to follow the money once we get it in there, we have to wait around to see who draws it out. It looks like this is gonna happen fast, but we can't be sure. It might take a while."

"We can talk to Sheriff Madden, get him to get the law up there to keep an eye on it," Nick suggested.

"Do you want to trust that all to a sheriff we don't know in Lodi?" Victoria asked.

Nick looked at Heath again. "One of us ought to do this and stay with it until the money comes out, make sure the Lodi sheriff doesn't miss it – as long as it's not gonna take a month to do it."

"I'll go," Heath said.

"Why you?" Nick asked.

"Because we got round-up in ten days. I don't think this is gonna take long, but if it does, you're gonna be one unhappy man," Heath said. "I got no trouble leaving round-up to you if we have to."

"Wait a minute," Victoria said. "Is this going to be dangerous?"

Nick and Heath looked at each other one more time. "I don't know," Heath admitted. "I don't think so. If this is a payoff to whoever Dolman is hiring to kill Judge Farnham, whoever it is is gonna be concentrating on getting back here to Stockton as soon as he gets the money. He ain't gonna watching for anybody to follow him."

"Unless he just takes the money and runs," Nick said.

And Heath nodded. That was a possibility.

But they went on as if it wasn't. Nick said, "We'll go to town first thing in the morning and get a draft for the money. Then I'll talk to Fred, and you go to Lodi to deposit the draft."

"You get Fred to wire the sheriff to Lodi I'm coming. I'll talk to him when I get there and we'll watch for who comes for the money," Heath said. "Jarrod didn't give a name, did he?"

Nick said, "He probably wasn't free to. I'll see the Judge is warned and kept safe, and as soon as your man comes down here we'll nab him."

"Are you going to wait for him to make a try for the judge?" Audra asked.

"Jarrod didn't say to," Heath said. "We best leave that call up to Fred and the judge."

Nick nodded again. "I'll talk to them."

Victoria heaved a sigh. "Just as long as Judge Farnham is safe and your brother comes home soon."

"This is nerve-wracking," Audra said.

Heath tried a smile. "Don't worry. We got a plan."

Nick said to Audra, "You just lock that letter up good in the desk in the library. If we're lucky and this all goes the way we plan it, we're gonna need that for evidence."

Audra nodded. "I just hope it goes the way we plan it."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Things were up to Nick and Heath then for a while. They went to the bank early the next morning and got a draft for the money, and Heath headed for Lodi. Nick headed for Sheriff Madden's office and filled him in on what they were doing. Sheriff Madden said, "Let's go talk to Judge Farnham."

About half an hour later, they were in Judge Farnham's office, explaining what was happening. The sheriff had been keeping the judge informed all along with what information he had, but up until now nothing was happening. But – "Well, now we're moving," Judge Farnham said.

"We need to get you some protection, just in case," the sheriff said.

Judge Farnham seemed to chew on that for a moment. "I'm reluctant to look like I need a bodyguard."

"Jarrod's letter wanted the money in the bank by tomorrow," Nick said. "I think he expects somebody to want to pick it up by tomorrow or right soon after that. Whoever's coming after you is probably gonna come in the next few days."

"And we still don't know exactly who that is?"

Nick shook his head. "Jarrod didn't give a name, and it wouldn't matter a lot if we had it, since we don't know what this fella looks like. Our best chance on getting him is if Heath can see him get the money and follow him here."

"We need to decide when we're going to pick him up," Sheriff Madden said. "I'd rather not give him a chance to get a shot at you, Judge."

"Neither would I," Judge Farnham said. "But I think that might be what it takes."

Both Nick and the sheriff were alarmed.

Judge Farnham said, "Even if Heath sees him get the money and follows him here, until he makes a try for me no one will be able to prove that's why got the money and came here. We need more."

Sheriff Madden sighed. "Judge, I don't like that at all."

"Once Heath gets here, following him, we'll at least know who we're looking for, what he looks like," Nick said.

"Maybe we can maneuver him into making a try for me when and where we want him to make it," Judge Farnham said.

"What did you have in mind?" Sheriff Madden asked.

Judge Farnham actually smiled. "A visible guard at times, when I come here from home and go back, but not at another time. Like maybe when I step out for a smoke in the alley."

"I don't want to risk anybody in the street getting hurt," Sheriff Madden said.

"Whoever is coming for me will probably watch my habits for a few days, if he's good at what he does," Judge Farnham said. "And he's not going to risk being seen on the street taking a shot at me. He's going to be furtive about it. If he sees I take a smoke break in the alley with some regularity, we can funnel him there."

"With no visible guard," Nick said.

"That's risky," Sheriff Madden said.

"Yes, but it's better than doing nothing at all and leaving it to chance," Judge Farnham said. "Let's talk scheduling. You can have a man in the building across the alley watching when I step out for a cigar. This can work."

Nick took a deep breath. Given what his older brother was going through, he hoped to high heaven they were planning well enough to save the judge's life and catch the man who was to kill Judge Farnham. If this didn't work, Jarrod's suffering in San Quentin would be for naught.

As if he could read Nick's mind, Judge Farnham said, "However this works out, I hope you'll tell Jarrod how much I appreciate what he's done. This has been beyond horrible for him. I'll never forget it."

Nick thought about the letters the family had received from Jarrod. "He seems to be doing pretty well in there, all things considered," Nick said, "but I'll be happy to get him out."

Judge Farnham reached to shake Nick's hand, and Nick took it. "Here's hoping getting him out happens in only a matter of days now."

Nick nodded. "Amen."

XXXXXXX

Since he wrote the letter, not much had happened to make Jarrod's life any less different than it had been. He was still bored most of the time, with only the occasional bump from some other inmate to keep him on his toes. At least there hadn't been another trip to the punishment hole, not yet anyway, and Hawk hadn't given him any more grief. He was still on his own for his "carrot breaks" in the yard, so he felt relatively safe there, but he was roaring bored almost all of the time. Even reading wasn't keeping his mind occupied.

And the boredom was beginning to get an anxious edge to it. He and Dolman hadn't exchanged any words about the plan at all. He was constantly wondering what was going on in Stockton and Lodi, if anything. He didn't even know if Hempstead was out yet. The worry was beginning to get to his appetite. He had already lost weight when he first came in. Now he was losing more, and his stomach was beginning to rebel at the terrible food. His pants were nearly falling off of him now, and he was getting virtually no exercise to keep his muscles toned. Now and then he'd do a few push-ups in his cell, but the cell was hardly big enough for him to stretch out on the floor in and it wasn't enough. Worst of all, he was getting tired, very tired, more and more tired all the time, and he feared, more short-tempered. If Hawk or anyone else were to bump into him, he wasn't sure how he'd react. He wasn't sure how he'd react to anything that looked like a threat.

He had been here for too long. Getting over his spell in this place was going to take a while, but he had to get out first.

The morning finally came when Dolman said quietly across the aisle, "Hempstead is out. Yesterday." It was the morning his brothers got the bank draft, the morning Heath went to Lodi.

But Jarrod didn't know what his brothers had accomplished. He nodded and prayed they were ready for Hempstead. The news actually gave him a little lift and he felt more like eating when the noon meal rolled around, but that was when it happened. He was going through the line to get his plate filled when someone pushed against his back. And something stuck him through his shirt.

Jarrod dropped his plate in surprise, more than pain. Whatever had stuck him wasn't big, but he looked and only saw one of the other men from his cell block behind him and a guard just to the side. Both men looked disinterested, then curious as to why Jarrod was suddenly alarmed. Jarrod looked at both men's hands and saw nothing in them. But then he started to hurt.

Jarrod stumbled. The man in front of him caught him, and it was obvious he was in trouble. He didn't fall, but now blood was appearing on the back of his shirt, fast. The guard already there was joined by another. The convict behind him was leaning toward Jarrod now. Jarrod grabbed him by the front of the shirt, but the man just sounded confused. "What? What do you want? What are you doing?" the man asked.

Jarrod breathed, "Damn you!"

"Me? What are you talking about?"

The guards pulled Jarrod upright and seeing the blood on his shirt, hustled him off to the prison hospital. In a short time his wound was being tended. "This isn't so bad in and of itself," the prison doctor told him. "It's not awfully deep. It didn't hit anything but muscle, and it actually helps that you bled out a lot. But I have no idea how clean whatever stuck you was. I'm gonna flood this with alcohol – hold onto your hat."

The flooding came and Jarrod could have screamed with the burning pain, but he breathed his way through it instead. It seemed to last forever, and even after the alcohol stopped coming, the site still burned fire. He kept deep breathing. He cursed this wound and he cursed the man who gave it to him and he cursed himself for not having seen it coming.

The doctor said, "I have some salve that draws infection out – or at least it's supposed to."

Jarrod saw the salve. It was the familiar ugly brown stuff that Dr. Merar in Stockton always used. Jarrod took heart at that, at least. The brown stuff had always worked pretty well before, and after the bleeding from the wound and the alcohol flood, he thought he had a good chance of avoiding an infection, so long as what stuck him was not horribly dirty.

The guard with him in the infirmary was not the guard who had been standing beside the food line, and now Jarrod was beginning to be convinced it was the guard in the mess hall who had stabbed him. The man behind him from his cell block probably wouldn't have tried it. Another inmate wouldn't have gotten away with using a weapon without it being found either, but a guard would.

The doctor put a bandage on the wound and said, "The bleeding has stopped. That ought to take care of you. Go easy on it so you don't pull it open again."

"No stitches?" Jarrod asked.

"No," was all the doctor said.

Jarrod was taken back to his cell, without ever having gotten his noon meal. It didn't matter. He was too uncomfortable to eat now. His cell block mates all gave him stares as he was locked back in, and when the guard left and closed them all in there, Norwood, the man in the cell beside Jarrod's, said in a voice loud enough for all to hear, "It was the guard who stuck you. I saw it."

"I figured," Jarrod said. "But he didn't stick me too deep."

"Deep enough for lockjaw if you're not lucky," Norwood said. "But it being a guard, you might be lucky. Their stickers are usually clean. They can't afford an infection if they accidentally cut themselves."

Jarrod put the thought of infection out of his mind. If it was going to be lockjaw or any other infection, there was nothing he could do about it. Tired, hungry, he lay down on his bunk on the side that wasn't injured, and stared at the wall. His thoughts went back to Nick and Heath and Stockton and Lodi and he wondered how things were going. Right now, even though he was exhausted, he wanted out of this place more than ever and wanted to go running out the door even if he was too tired and hurt to do it. He hated not being in on the climax happening miles away, and he hated being in here.

But if things went well, if his brothers were able to come through as planned, Judge Farnham would be safe in a matter of days, and Jarrod would be out of here within a week. At least, he hoped so.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Heath talked to the sheriff in Lodi as soon as he got to town and got the money in the bank, and got the man's cooperation about the plan. Heath took up a spot in the bank, in a chair where patrons would wait to see a loan officer or other person who wasn't just a teller, and watched the sheriff talking to the bank manager. The manager gave Heath an eye, then looked back at the sheriff and nodded. As soon as the sheriff left, the manager motioned Heath into his office behind the big glass window.

"I understand what we need to do," the manager said. "There's an empty desk right over there. We're gonna be closing in about an hour, so for now I'm gonna leave you right here, but bright and early tomorrow I'm gonna put you at that desk, and I'm gonna give you some loan papers to fill out so it'll look like you're doing something."

"That won't make me look like I belong here for long."

"Take a good long time filling them out, then sit out there and hold them until I call you in, then sit back out there while I review them. We can eat up three hours or so that way, and then you can go out and come back in every once in a while to see me about whether your loan went through. We can keep that up for days if we have to. You'll look like any other nervous man who needs money, and when you're not in here, you can watch from outside. I'll come get you if we get anything."

Heath smiled. "Does it really take that long to do the paperwork for a loan?"

"Sometimes," the manager said. "I'll just let the tellers know what account they should be waiting for someone to get money out of. They'll let me know, no questions asked. We've done this sort of thing before."

Heath shook his head. "I never knew banking was such a sneaky business."

The manager chuckled. "You had a suspicion, though, didn't you?"

Now Heath chuckled. "Yeah."

No one came in on this day to get the money. The bank closed at two o'clock, and Heath left. The next morning, Heath returned as directed. The manager sent him to the empty desk and then took his good time rounding up the papers for Heath to fill out. They followed the little play the manager had outlined and took a good long time doing it, but still, no one came in for the money that day.

They continued the charade for one more day before a man showed up and withdrew the five thousand dollars. Heath was there in the waiting chair when it happened. He saw the teller signal the manager as soon as the man left, and the manager signaled Heath as he headed for the teller. The teller said something to the manager, and as Heath left right behind the man who had withdrawn the money, the manager passed him and said quietly, "Porter – but it might be a fake name." Heath nodded and went out.

He was an ordinary man of ordinary height and looks, but he was wearing those pants and a shirt that they gave you when you got out of prison. As he mounted a horse, Heath saw a coat draped over the horn of the saddle that was just like a prison suit coat. As the man turned and headed out of town, Heath was not far behind him. He wished he could have wired ahead to Stockton that he was coming, but there wasn't time.

Heath followed him, but kept back and out of sight as much as he could. There was a point that the man stopped by a creek for water – Heath kept going right by him, trying not to draw his attention. Heath went on another couple of miles before he stopped for water himself, and he waited there until the man passed him. The man paid no attention to him. Heath figured, correctly, that to this guy, he was just somebody else on the road to Stockton.

It took less than half a day to get to Stockton. Heath had held back but saw the man's horse tied up in front of one of the saloons as soon as he rode into town. Heath quickly went to the sheriff's office and found Sheriff Madden in. "He's here," was all he said when he went in the door. "Over in the Silver Eagle saloon."

Sheriff Madden got up from his desk. "What does he look like?"

"A few inches shorter than me, wearing a prison suit but he left the jacket with his horse," Heath said. "Probably didn't have enough money to buy new clothes once he got the horse and the gun but he has it now, so we better be ready for him to change out of the prison suit."

Sheriff Madden nodded. "I'll go check him out. I want you to go see Judge Farnham. He's got a guard with him. Judge Farnham will know what to do. You come back here after you talk to him and I'll fill you in on how we're gonna do this. Does the man have a gun?"

"Yeah, a side arm, no rifle that I saw," Heath said.

The sheriff nodded again, and they both went out, the sheriff asking, "Did you get a name?"

"Porter, but it could be phony," Heath said.

Then they were all action, the sheriff heading for the Silver Eagle, Heath heading for the courthouse. Heath's blood was pumping with the excitement of what might be happening very soon, but with more, too. If this went well, if everything happened fast, Jarrod could be out of San Quentin and home in a matter of days. This could all be over and forgotten before very long at all.

XXXXXX

Heath came home at the end of the day, finding his family already gathered before dinner and jumping up when he came in the door. "The man came for the money?" Victoria asked quickly.

Heath left his hat on the table in the foyer, nodding. "Yep, today. Judge Farnham is all geared up and started taking his cigar breaks like you planned, Nick, and that's the only time he's without a visible guard."

"But nothing's happened yet," Audra said.

"No, everybody figures this guy is gonna check things out before he makes a move. But I think this idea of funneling him toward the judge and his cigar breaks might just work. It's just gonna take a little time for this fella to see the pattern."

Nick handed Heath a glass of whiskey. "He won't take much though. He's gonna want to be out of Stockton before anybody really notices he's here. I wish we could tell Jarrod what's going on."

"Audra and I could arrange a visit," Victoria said.

Nick shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. What's gonna happen could happen fast and you'd be giving him old information once you got there."

"Nick's right," Heath said. "Let's play this out over the next few days. Too bad we can't be in town on this, Nick."

"We could," Nick said. "What time is the judge scheduling his smoke breaks for?"

"Ten and two," Heath said. "He doesn't have any court scheduled for the next few days but he's got a trial coming up next week."

"And nobody's going to be suspicious that he's not smoking in his office?" Audra asked.

"This killer doesn't know what the judge's habits are," Heath said. "He won't notice anything's changed."

"Maybe we can go in for supplies in a couple days and plan to be around one or two of those times," Nick suggested.

Victoria knew her sons, and she suspected what Jarrod was feeling, too. They always found it hard to stay away from the action when they knew it was about to happen. "It would be pure chance if you hit the right time," she said. "You can't do it more than once or it will look fishy."

"Did this man ever see you?" Nick asked Heath.

Heath nodded. "On the road between Lodi and Stockton, but just in passing. He might get antsy if he sees me again, he might not."

"Then I go in the day after tomorrow and you stay here," Nick said. "I might hit it right, I might not. What's this guy look like?"

"A bit shorter than me, a bit older, sandy hair, really thin."

"You lose a lot of weight in jail," Nick said without thinking, remembering how much Jarrod lost in Nevada, knowing it was likely he'd lost some again. "We'll get some weight back on Jarrod, if he needs it."

Victoria patted his hand. "Nice try, Nick. But we know what Jarrod looked like when he got home from Carson City. We'll handle it when Jarrod comes home."

Heath raised his glass of whiskey. "Which with any luck isn't even a week away."

They joined him in a toast, and Nick said, "God willing."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Days went by. Jarrod hadn't had any more stabbing incidents, although there was yet another bumping from someone who looked like he had some kind of weapon hidden that he never got to use. At least his injury did not seem to be getting infected despite the fact that he hadn't had the bandage changed since it was put on. It itched like crazy, but Jarrod resisted the urge to scratch. He figured it was healing. He put up with it.

What was hard to put up with was the wondering what was happening in Stockton. It was difficult not to look anxious about it, and he noticed Dolman looking at him funny now and then. Jarrod decided to just own up to it. "Wish I knew what life was like on the outside," he said quietly to Dolman when Hempstead had been out for four days. "How are you supposed to find out?"

"I'll get a letter," Dolman said. "It'll tell me how nice the weather in Modesto is. That's how we'll know it's done – plus I guarantee you the word will get around in here anyway. Guards got ways of letting us know things like that."

"Is anybody in this administration on the up and up?"

Dolman laughed. "No. Whaley might be, but he's so lazy it doesn't matter anyway. The guards are all crooked as hell. Look at that guard who stabbed you. Did he get anything about that?"

"He didn't even get caught as far as I can tell," Jarrod said. "He's still in the mess hall whenever I am."

"Ever wonder who might have paid him off to hit you?"

"Sure," Jarrod said. And smiled. "But it doesn't really matter. Somebody's gonna try again sooner or later, and if I'm dead I won't care much who did it."

Dolman looked at him very seriously. "You are gonna die in here, you know."

Jarrod shivered inwardly. He knew that could be true. He knew it was only a matter of time, maybe days, before somebody got to him to stick him again deeper and with a dirtier improvised weapon, but he said, "Not if I can help it, I'm not. Nearly two months now and the worst I've gotten is a little pin prick in my back. You never know. My enemies might die off before I do."

Dolman snorted. "Look at this. An optimist in San Quentin."

Jarrod hardened his stare. "What makes you think I won't be taking care of things myself?"

Now Dolman eyed him, and Jarrod could tell Dolman was thinking Jarrod had plans of attacking somebody himself, maybe more than one somebody. Jarrod liked having that effect. Jarrod certainly had come to understand what San Quentin did to a man, what prison did to him in Nevada, even in a way what it did to Cass Hyatt that sent him after revenge once he got out. If Cass Hyatt had taught Jarrod anything in life, it was that he could be a more violent man than he'd ever dreamed. Prison could bring out the animal in anybody, and Jarrod had known his animal before. Now he was getting more and more tired, and that animal was getting closer and closer to coming out.

But the image of the dangerous man he wanted to project to Dolman was not the man he really wanted to be. Even if he had some use for Dolman and others believing he could kill, Jarrod didn't want to know that animal inside him again. He wanted it to be a monster he could use, but not be. He girded himself for the battle against himself, a fight that was going to take work, but he was determined to win. He could do it. He could keep that inner animal under control. He ould get out of here and lead the life of a decent human being again.

XXXXXXXX

It was on the morning that Nick came into town for supplies that it happened, a lot faster than anyone anticipated. Nick wasn't sure he was looking at the man named "Porter" when he saw him turn into the alley that ran behind Judge Farnham's office but in case it was, he wanted to be there. He followed.

Judge Farnham was lighting a cigar by the door he'd just come out of, after checking the window across the alley where his guard was keeping him covered, to be sure the man was there. He was. The judge could see the man and his rifle through the window, and he breathed easier as he lit up and took the first few puffs. He looked up and down the alley and saw no one, just like the past two days. He relaxed a bit and leaned up against the wall.

And then the man came in. Judge Farnham straightened and eyed him. Hempstead/Porter tipped his hat as he passed on by. Judge Farnham nodded but kept watching. Nick appeared at the alley entrance, but ducked back when he saw Hempstead/Porter moving on – ducked back but kept a peek out.

Hempstead/Porter turned around when he was only a few feet from the judge. He had pulled a gun.

Nick saw it and came out with his own pistol drawn, and the guard in the building across the way broke a pane of glass at the same time. Before the judge could even react, both Nick and the guard were yelling, "Hold it!"

Hempstead/Porter stopped, startled, caught with his gun in his hand. Nick drew closer while Judge Farnham had the sense to duck back into his building.

"What?" Hempstead/Porter said, but he knew he was caught. He was not a professional and did not know how to even try to fake his way out of this. He just stood there.

"Drop it," Nick said as he came closer. For emphasis, he cocked his gun as the guard came out from the building across the alley.

Hempstead/Porter dropped the gun. "What's going on?"

"Move back," Nick told him.

Hempstead/Porter saw the guard come up beside him. He moved back, and Nick picked up the gun he had dropped. "Let's go see the sheriff," the guard said.

"Why? I ain't done anything," Hempstead/Porter tried again.

"Pulling a gun on a judge is a big fat 'ain't done anything,'" Nick said. "Let's go."

Nick felt a great big tickle of pleased as he moved Hempstead/Porter ahead of him and the guard joined in heading him to the sheriff's office. This little set-up had worked beautifully, just like it was supposed to, and he had the Barkley luck to be there for the take-down. He grinned all the way to the sheriff's office, and as he did, he made plans for a trip to San Francisco.

XXXXXXX

Some best laid plans can go awry. Jarrod had every intention of walking the straight and narrow. Despite sounding like a brutal man planning his own vengeance on those who were trying to get to him in here, he planned never to see the inside of that punishment hole again. But it was only a day after Nick took Hempstead/Porter down in the alley in Stockton that Jarrod ran into trouble one more time.

He was in the food line, shuffling along in his ankle chains, when he sensed someone come up behind him, too close. Without giving whoever it was a chance to bump him, he whirled and he saw Hawk right behind him again. Hawk shouldn't have even been there, but the guards were looking the other way. Hawk had a utensil in his hand, a spoon he was holding like a weapon. It was too much. Jarrod dropped his plate, and then he dropped Hawk with one punch, sending him flailing off the counter where the food was dished out and crashing to the ground. Jarrod kicked him – what he swore he'd never do again. He'd have kicked him again and again, but two guards grabbed him, one by each arm, and pulled him hard and away. And someone put himself between him and Hawk.

Norwood. He stared at Jarrod with a slight smile on his face, a mysteriously kind one, as if to say, _you don't want to do this, Counselor_. Jarrod sighed and let his anger wash out. His head spun at the thought of what he was almost going to do. Jarrod looked at Norwood, straight in the eyes. _You don't want to do this, Counselor_, Norwood's eyes said again.

Somehow Jarrod's actions were not bad enough to get him hauled off to the punishment hole again. Maybe it was already occupied – there were three of the holes here, maybe they were all occupied. The guards took Jarrod back to his cell and dumped him in there with his chains still on, as if it were the punishment hole. Jarrod was too tired to do anything other than lie down on his bunk. Tired of fighting somebody off every other day. Tired of waiting for word that Judge Farnham's assassin had been thwarted. Tired of the gruel and the clothes that were falling off of his shrinking frame. Tired of chewing on dirty carrots in the vegetable garden as his only "privilege." Just flat out tired.

His cell block mates were brought back in before long. Jarrod heard Norwood come to the wall between them and ask quietly, "You all right?"

Jarrod felt a rush of something he couldn't believe – gratitude, brotherhood, fondness even, for this lost man in the next cell. Jarrod got up and went to the spot where the wall met the bars. "Yeah," he said. "Thanks, Norwood."

Norwood didn't reply before two guards came to the door to Jarrod's cell, reached in and pulled him out. He had some trouble catching his steps, but after a few shuffles he was moving all right again. He wasn't expecting it, but they took him to get cleaned up, and when they took his chains and clothes, he took the bandage off the wound in his back and had a look before he washed it off. It was closing nicely now. At least that was good.

They handed him clean clothes, but for a moment he didn't understand. It wasn't a prison uniform they gave him. It took a moment of weary confusion, but then Jarrod recognized it. It was the suit they gave a prisoner when he was being released. At first he didn't believe it, but then it dawned on him like the sun coming up. His grin grew as he put it on. It didn't remotely fit, hanging on him worse than the prison garb did, but they didn't put the cuffs and ankle chains back on. He felt almost normal again. He felt beautiful.

They took him to the warden's office and shoved him in the door – where he immediately broke into a bigger smile. Nick and Heath were standing there in front of him. They looked shocked at his appearance at first, but when he smiled, they smiled.

Jarrod spread his arms. "How do you like my new suit?"

Nick and Heath came to him laughing. They all three hugged as one, laughing, laughing.

Whaley wasn't laughing. He just said, "Get your tail out of here and never darken my door again, Barkley."

Jarrod loved that Whaley was irritated at having to release him. Jarrod grinned at him. "Is that permission to speak, Warden Whaley, Sir?" he asked.

"Get out," Whaley said.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

They went out the door together, Nick and Heath thinking they were going to have to support their weakened brother, but Jarrod felt strong as an ox. In a few short minutes, they were out from within the walls, out in the sunshine of a midafternoon. Jarrod stopped and took a deep breath of absolute freedom, in some ways even better than the freedom when he was released from the prison in Carson City. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after two," Heath said.

"What's the date?" Jarrod asked.

Heath gave it to him.

"I want to go to my place and get a good bath," Jarrod said. "The lease has run out, hasn't it? It's mine again?"

"We have a better idea," Nick said, nodding, patting the valise he was carrying that Jarrod hadn't even noticed. "Before we head to your place, we go to your favorite tonsorial parlor for a shave and a haircut and a bath and a change into these decent clothes I've brought along. They might not fit perfect but they're better than that suit."

"Judge Farnham is all right?" Jarrod asked.

"Fit as a fiddle," Nick said.

"Hempstead?"

"In Fred Madden's jail."

"And Nick got to be the one to put him there," Heath said.

"Ah," Jarrod said with an even bigger smile. "Best news yet."

Two hours later Jarrod was shaved, shampooed, his hair cut and his body bathed, and he felt terrific. He didn't look like Jarrod Barkley completely – he was back to being too thin for that and for Jarrod Barkley's clothes – but he looked a heck of a lot more like him and felt a lot more like him too. His brothers took him home to his townhouse, and as soon as they went through the front door –

He smelled food, delicious food, glorious food, coming from the kitchen. "Oh, my," he said. "Is that actual good cooking I smell?"

And there they came, out from the kitchen, his mother and his sister. For a moment they looked shocked at how much weight he had lost again, but when he burst into a big smile, opened his arms and came toward them, they came to him, and again three people hugged as one.

"I didn't know you were here!" Jarrod said, kissing his mother and sister like crazy. "These two didn't tell me!"

"We wanted to surprise you," Victoria said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better and better and better," Jarrod said. "Judge Farnham is well, I'm out of San Quentin – I take it my 'record' is being expunged?"

"Already ordered," Heath said.

"Then all is right with the world," Jarrod said, hugged his mother and sister again, and then stood back and looked at everybody. "I know this has been as rough on you as it's been on me. I know I put you through a lot, and I thank you for sticking with me."

"It's over now," Audra said quietly and kissed his cheek.

Heath had stepped off to the refreshment table and came to his oldest brother's side, holding out a glass. "Your best scotch, Brother Jarrod."

"Oh, ho, ho," Jarrod laughed with delight and anticipation as he took the glass and had a tiny sip he savored like it was the first he'd ever had. "Oh, my. Life is life again."

"Only after dinner and cigars," Nick said.

Jarrod smiled and toasted him. "Amen to that, Brother Nick."

XXXXXXX

The next day they went home to Stockton. Jarrod took a moment to visit with Judge Farnham, who shook his hand warmly, saying, "I'll never forget this, Jarrod."

They went home then and Jarrod settled into his favorite thinking chair in front of a cheery fire that they really didn't need but that he really wanted. He was home. There was no cell here, no punishment hole, no home-made knives to stick him and no threatening men all around him. All there was was peace, quiet, comfort, joy.

He saw his mother had sat down in the settee and was looking at him. He smiled. "I'm not sure which is better – when I came home from Nevada or now."

"I would think Nevada was better, since you were there longer," Victoria said. "I hope this is the last time you'll be coming out of prison, for any reason."

Jarrod nodded. "I promise."

"It was very hard for us to let you go back in, but I'm proud of you, Jarrod," Victoria said. "You have a lot of courage, to endure the years in Nevada, find your way back to us, and then to willingly go through the same thing for a friend."

Jarrod was almost embarrassed. "Well, it seemed like the right thing to do. That made it a lot easier to endure."

"Nevertheless, it was hard," Victoria said.

"On everyone," Jarrod said. "And I thank you for enduring it with me."

"It will be difficult to get back to normal again."

Jarrod shook his head. "Not really. I'm not the same man who came home from Nevada. I'm not quite the old Jarrod Barkley again, but inside I'm more him than I was, maybe even more him than I was when I went into San Quentin. You'll still have to deal with a Jarrod Barkley trying to figure himself out. Maybe you always will."

"Maybe," Victoria agreed. "But whoever you are, I'm so happy to have you home."

Jarrod smiled. "I'm very happy to be here."

Epilogue

Jarrod got back to work in the field with Nick and Heath only a few days later, and within a week he was back into the swing of things. It seemed easier to be a cowpoke now, now that he'd successfully helped Judge Farnham stay alive, now that he had done something so trying that ended up so good. He was feeling more and more like a worthwhile human being every day, and if he wasn't sure he was the old Jarrod Barkley or ever would be, it didn't matter. He was a man, a free man, and a decent one, too.

At the end of the day about two weeks later, Jarrod came home with his brothers and immediately headed upstairs. After cleaning up and changing clothes, he came downstairs to join his mother and sister for drinks before dinner while his brothers were still upstairs. As he reached the foyer, there was a knock on the front door. "I'll get it," he said, and went to it.

It was Judge Farnham on the other side, and Peter Cramer. Jarrod was pleasantly surprised. "Your honor! And Peter, well this is a surprise. You're just in time for a drink. Come on in."

The two men came in, Judge Farnham saying, "We can't stay long. Our wives are expecting us both."

Victoria and Audra stood to greet the guests. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Victoria asked.

Judge Farnham smiled and took a folded paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "This," he said, and he handed it to Jarrod.

Jarrod took it, unfolded it, read it – and went white as a sheet.

"What is it?" Victoria asked, alarmed.

But Jarrod smiled, took a deep breath, and as his color came back, he said, "I'm reinstated."

"What?" Audra said and a smile spread across her face.

Jarrod began to lose his breath. "I'm reinstated!"

"Effective tomorrow," Judge Farnham said. "The Board was impressed with everything you've done since you got out of prison in Nevada and everything you did to help save my life." He held his hand out. "And needless to say, so was I. When I told them all about you going into Quentin of your own volition to help me, they moved to get my petition granted straight away. Congratulations, Counselor."

Jarrod shook the judge's hand. "I don't know how to thank you."

"It's I who thank you, for my life."

Victoria and Audra came running to Jarrod, hugging him, just as Nick and Heath were coming downstairs. "What's the fuss?" Nick asked, and then saw who was here. "Oh, your honor, Peter. Good to see you."

"The fuss is – you have a lawyer for a brother again," Peter said.

Nick and Heath both felt their mouths fall open, and then they smiled, and then it was handshakes and backslaps all around. "I guess that means we better be finding you an office in town," Heath said.

"That's why I'm here," Peter said. "I was there in the courthouse when Judge Farnham got the word, and what I was doing was accepting the appointment as the new District Attorney."

Everyone beamed all over again, and handshakes went Peter's way now.

Peter continued, "That means I have a new office, so if you want your old one back, Jarrod – desk, chairs, books, everything – "

"You bet I want it back!" Jarrod said. And he looked at the paper that allowed him to call himself Jarrod Barkley, Esquire again. He couldn't believe it. He kept shaking his head.

"I'd say this calls for some champagne," Nick said. "Stay for a little celebration, your honor? Peter?"

"Please," Jarrod said.

Both men nodded. A little extra time and some celebrating was definitely in order.

XXXXXXXXX

Peter took over the District Attorney position only a week later, and two days after that, Jarrod moved back into his old office. Nick and Heath had boxed and stored all his old files when he went into prison, and now they brought them back.

They pulled up in front of the building and Jarrod didn't even notice something until Nick pointed up to the window and the sign that read "Jarrod Barkley, Attorney at Law, Stockton, San Francisco Offices." Jarrod could hardly believe what he was seeing. The small sign outside the door carried his name again, too.

"I had it done right after Peter moved out," Nick said. "A peace offering."

"I didn't know we were at war," Jarrod said.

"Not at war, but I could have believed in you a bit more than I did," Nick said.

"Thanks, Nick," Jarrod said, sincerely. "You believed enough."

They all carried boxes upstairs into the office, until they were all up there. "We can help you unpack," Heath offered.

But Jarrod was off inside himself, looking around at the old familiar place where he's spent so much of his life before everything went wrong. A place he was certain he would never enter again, much less call his. It was like being with an old friend, or perhaps like being with himself again.

"Jarrod?" Heath asked.

"Hm?" Jarrod turned. "I'm sorry. I was a million miles away."

"Do you want us to help you unpack these files?" Nick asked.

"No, no," Jarrod said. "I'll want to reorganize them as I go along. It won't take me all that long."

Jarrod gave a look to the window. Seeing his own name there, even in reverse, was beautiful. In his mind's eye, he was already back practicing law. He was a free man and an attorney at law again. He was Jarrod Barkley, Esquire.

"You'll need to find you a new office in San Francisco," Heath said.

"That can wait," Jarrod said. His blue eyes shone happily. "I want to get a few clients here again first." Although he could think of a potential client in San Francisco he wanted to check into – a man named Norwood.

From where he stood, Heath could see the street and the people on the other side. A lot of them were looking up at the window, at Jarrod standing there again. Some of them pointed him out to others. Word had already spread, days ago, that Jarrod's imprisonment in San Quentin had been a ruse and that he'd gone in there to thwart the man trying to have Judge Farnham killed. People smiled now, looking up at the window with his name on it. "I don't think that'll take very long." Heath pointed across the street.

Jarrod saw what Heath was looking at. A woman with two other women waved to him. Jarrod broke into a big grin, and waved back.

Then he went off into himself again, to that man inside who had struggled for so long, through terrible changes and beautiful changes, to get back here to where he was standing right now. Looking down in the street, he remembered bringing Beth here, how she beamed with pride, saying, "Jarrod Barkley, Attorney at Law," when they stopped the buggy right down there. He remembered exactly what she looked like now, the sweetness on her face, the love in her eyes, and the memory didn't sting this time. It would now and then, he knew, but right now he only remembered the joy, because now she could be proud of him again. And he could be proud of himself.

He was Jarrod Barkley, convict, criminal, mystery, lost soul. But he was also Jarrod Barkley, free man, repentant and redeemed, traveler on the road to self-discovery and getting there. Best of all, he was Jarrod Barkley, Attorney at Law again. "The window says so," he said, accidentally out loud.

Nick and Heath looked at each other. "What?" Nick asked.

Jarrod turned to them, smiling.

The End


End file.
